No One's Secret To Keep
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: D&H What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.
1. Mercy

No One's Secret to Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General ****Summary**: D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th Year.

**Summary of this Chapter**: Draco pisses of Snape; Harry is a tad bit rough (with a dirty mouth); Filch is strangely absent.

**Warnings**: Slash, sex, language, all that good stuff. Oh! And as much as I loved HBP and DH, they never happened . . . you never read them . . . they are all a figment of your imagination . . .Twilight Zone music . . .

**Disclaimer**: I am not British, I am not rich, and goddamnit, I am just not J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own is the laptop I'm typing on and I didn't even buy that, so obviously these characters are not mine. cries hysterically

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Chapter One

Draco Malfoy was bored shitless.

As much as he appreciated his Head of House, even he had to admit it; Severus Snape was pretty boring. Helping his students review for NEWTs was obviously not his forte, but he continued on in his strangely deep, sleep inducing, nasally monotone. Just as Draco's silver-blonde tresses threatened to hit the table top, he felt something poke sharply into his side. He turned to his right to ask Crabbe _what the hell_ but the moron could barely keep his own head up, let alone make use of what few brain cells he had in order to move his arm and fingers to jab his friend. But Draco asked anyway.

"Crabbe?! You dolt! Did you poke me?"

Crabbe directed muddy brown eyes towards the pissed voice and shook his head. Draco scowled and rubbed his side. Surely it would bruise. His skin was delicate.

As soon as the pain subsided, Draco removed his hand from his side and turned back to Snape to continue his boredom. And then, something poked him hard in the neck.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, is voice echoing through the almost silent dungeon classroom. Snape dropped whatever book he was reading aloud from with an ominous _thump_ before training obsidian eyes on his favorite student.

"Would you like to share something with us, Draco?" he invited politely, though his eyes said otherwise.

"Er . . . No, Professor, forgive me."

Snape inclined his head and went back to his book. Draco gave an uneasy laugh. He seriously thought he was going to get in trouble for a minute. With Snape! Hilarious!

Suddenly, something sharp poked his hand hard enough to break the skin.

"Aw, fuck!" he yelped, jumping up and sucking his new wound into his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you wish to make a fool of yourself, please be so kind to do so on your own time, not mine. Five points from Slytherin and detention tonight at nine," Snape snapped loud enough to wake up a majority of his class. Draco, along with many others, looked shocked. Snape had given _him_ a detention. And deducted house points! This was a bad, boring day, Draco decided as he inclined his head to his professor and sat. As soon as he was seated, whatever had poked him was poking him again, but as soft as possible this time.

He looked down and saw a small white paper airplane pressing against his still bleeding palm. He opened it to see that it was blank, but when he smoothed the creased paper with his palm, a lazy, familiar scrawl started to make its way across the note.

_Meet me after your detention. Let's see if we can use the Charms room. _

_-P

* * *

_

Draco sat in the empty Charms classroom, trying to keep his spirits, and body heat, up.

He was freezing his ass off, but was too fearful to light the nice inviting fireplace in the corner because he knew Filch's bitch ass cat could be there at any moment. Why someone would get the fool notion to use the Charms classroom, which was located in the most frequented hall of the school, was way beyond him. So he just rolled his eyes and wrapped his robes closer to him and waited.

"Malfoy?"

The voice came from the doorway and was cautious and quiet.

"Here," he answered. He heard footsteps echo through the room, but he could not see the feet. "Cut the invisibility shit, Potter, and get the fuck over here."

He heard a soft laugh before Potter unveiled himself with a dramatic flourish of his father's special cloak. "Someone seems a bit impatient."

"Well, when one has been freezing his balls off for over an hour waiting for an idiot to show up, yes, one can become rather impatient," he snarled through straight, pearly white teeth.

"An hour?" Potter's eyebrows rose high above the dark frames of his glasses. "You waited that long for me?"

"I said _over_ an hour, but that doesn't matter now," he said, standing and lifting his fingers to the clasps of his robes.

"How long was detention?" Potter asked conversationally, watching Draco, his hands not lifting at all to disrobe himself.

"Just a little over half-an-hour."

"I should have known Snape wouldn't give his teacher's pet a two hour detention like he always does me," Potter laughed, leaning back against a desk and watching as Draco's robes fell down in a dark pool around him.

"I am not a teacher's pet," Draco said haughtily. "Just because the professor likes me better than you---"

"He likes blast-ended skrewts better than me."

"---doesn't mean that I am a teacher's pet," he finished, ignoring Potter's statement. "Besides, I'm his best student."

"No, Hermoine is his best student."

"Shut up," he snapped, feeling heat creep up to his neck and ears, so he decided to change the subject. "Why aren't you taking off your clothing?"

"I'm watching you." And as if to prove his statement, his gaze shifted to the skin bared by Draco's unbuttoned shirt.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious. Potter laughed.

"You don't know?" he asked quietly, the tone of his voice dropping to one that only a select group of people had ever heard. Draco was pleased to be included in that group. Potter walked slowly to him until Draco could feel a warm breeze gliding across his lips. His eyes closed involuntarily and he felt himself swaying towards the warm body before him. "You're so sexy, Malfoy. I want to watch you undress because of the way your long, pale fingers caress all that smooth, porcelain skin of yours. I love seeing you touch yourself. I love seeing you naked. Undressing yourself is the best of both worlds, in a sense."

Draco's lips trembled and let slip as shaky, "P-P-Potter," a second before hard lips took his mouth. Draco found himself being pressed against a wall that he didn't even remember being near and moaned as Potter's rough mouth moved to his neck.

"Undo your pants." The order was barked out of Potter's mouth so easily that Draco couldn't resist it. He barely had his belt unbuckled when his impatient partner grabbed the waist of his trousers and yanked hard, causing the fabric to rub harshly against him and leave red marks down the sides of his pale legs.

"Aw, fuck!"

Potter didn't apologize, but instead sunk to his knees before Draco's newly naked body. He took of his glasses and silently lifted them up to be taken by Draco, who looked down at him with glittering silver eyes and placed the glasses on top of his smooth silver hair. Potter smiled and broke eye contact so that his gaze rested on the task ahead.

The Slytherin almost came, right then and there when Potter nuzzled the silvery hair his erection was nestled in. "Potter!"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy! Can't you even get your dick sucked without talking the whole way through?"

Draco loved Potter's harsh tone and words. "Suck it and I might quiet down."

"Good because if you don't, Filch will be here before you can say _fanged __Frisbees_."

Draco jolted at that, even knowing that Potter said it just to heighten the risk factor, but his eyes darted to the open doorway. "Potter, maybe we should close the---Aaaaawwww, ffffffuuuuuck!"

Potter's mouth was surrounding him, hot and wet and sucking. Oh sweet Merlin, the sucking. "Potter . . . I . . . Oh, God . . ."

He felt the mouth around him vibrate as his tormentor chuckled, and waves of pleasure radiated throughout his body. He lifted both hands to his quivering lips and licked the tips of two fingers on each hand, then moved his shirt aside to play with his dusky nipples. Potter's emerald gaze shined up at him as he did so and his eyes narrowed with passion. He released Draco from his mouth with a _pop_ and stuck a finger in his mouth; lavishing it with his tongue and getting it wet enough for what he had in mind.

Draco saw what he was doing and arched his back and tried to spread his legs as much as the pants at his ankles would allow him. Finally, Potter's slick finger found its way into Draco's tight entrance. "Oh . . . I . . . That is so . . . good."

"It is, isn't it?" Potter agreed, a hint of teasing in his deep voice just before sucking Draco back into his mouth. Pale fingers clutched pitch black locks so hard that if they weren't already standing on end then they would certainly be that way after all was said and done. So Draco tugged Potter's hair and arched and moaned and groaned and did just about anything that would clue Potter in to how much he needed to come.

The Gryffindor hero just couldn't be swayed. He just smiled around Draco's erection and sucked and lapped happily away without a care in the world while the boy he was on his knees for shook with unreciprocated passion.

Potter's fingers---he had added another one---were still milking his prostate and he could feel himself hitting the back of Potter's throat with every thrust his hips seemed to be doing on their own accord and he couldn't breathe and every muscle in his body was clamping and tightening up and his skin felt as if it was too small for his body and he was quickly turning into gelatin and he saw bright lights and so many colors and he practically died when he finally came. His head fell back with a loud yell that was sure to get Filch running if he were anywhere around and Potter's glasses slid off his hair and fell to the ground, the sound of smashed glass echoing in the room.

"Malfoy, you fucker." Potter lifted his glasses from the ground before standing and looking at Draco. He shook his head, sighed and licked at the corner of his mouth. "You're so lucky that you taste so good, otherwise, I'd feel inclined to kick your ass. Oh well. _Reparo_."

Draco leaned against the wall, his eyes closed tight and his panting so harsh that his pale chest lifted rapidly enough to gain Potter's attention. The dark-haired boy's eyes lighted up with pleasure.

"Did I take your breath away, Malfoy? Did I suck you so good that you can't even speak?"

Draco finally managed to open his eyes to look at the dark prince standing before him. "I can talk, Potter."

"Yes, barely." The Gryffindor smirked smartly as he lifted his repaired glasses to his eyes. "Malfoy, you look so tired. Do you want to rest? Should we call it a night and get you to bed?"

"Shut up, Potter. I'm not tiring so easily tonight," Draco growled at the taunt. It was an ongoing game between the two of them every time they met like this; they would tease each other ruthlessly until one cried for mercy.

Potter never cried for mercy.

Draco pushed himself off the wall, took a moment to bend and lift up his pants and knickers, and then walked slowly towards Potter's retreating figure. Soon Potter was pushed against a desk and Draco felt an overwhelming sense of power.

Potter's breath hitched as the Slytherin's hands lifted to disrobe him.

"Hurry," the Chosen One ordered, emerald eyes closing behind thin glass lenses. "Malfoy, hurry."

"Shh, Potter. Patience." Draco took his opposite's lips swiftly and silently like he always did, just because it knocked Potter off guard. Potter---with the force, the violence, and the bruising tastes---was counterbalanced by Draco's elegant touches, his casual caresses, and soft tastes. Potter moaned hotly into his mouth and let his head fall back so Draco could nibble the smooth line of his neck.

"Malfoy . . . mmm . . . mmm . . . like that . . . yeah . . ."

"Your vocabulary astounds me, Potter," Draco smirked into his neck. He used his skillful tongue to trace the tendons of said neck and earned an extra moan from the Chosen One when he began to swirl it around. "God, Potter, you have no idea . . . I want you to hurt me."

The other boy pulled back and quirked an eyebrow at what he had just heard. No, pain was nothing new to their exploits, but he was more surprised at what Draco started to say before. "What don't I have an idea about?"

Draco frowned at the fact that Potter caught that. "I was simply going to say that you have no idea what I want to do to you, then I remembered all the things I want you to do to me, so I changed the subject."

Draco gasped when the other boy reached out and pulled him flushed against his hot, hard body.

"You're going to get extra spankings for lying to me," the boy breathed into his ear.

"Okay." He cringed at the simpleton answer, but suddenly forgot all about it when Potter twisted him around and forced him to lean over the desk with his hands flat against the surface. He yelped when once again his pants were yanked fiercely down his body but made no protest. This was exactly what he wanted.

"You are so fucking sexy, Malfoy. Did you know that?" Potter groaned into his ear.

He answered without missing a beat. "Yes."

A loud resounding slap echoed throughout the room.

"That was for your smart mouth, Malfoy. What else should you be punished for?"

Draco refused to answer, anything he said would be taken as an insult and he would have a harder spanking. On the other hand, wasn't that the point? "Punished? The only thing I should be punished for is fucking your half-blooded ass."

He heard a low growl from deep in Potter's throat a moment before another loud slap echoed and a hit so hard that it summoned his erection back.

"Are you whimpering, Malfoy, you little bitch?" Potter crooned into his ear, his tongue darting out to caress the pale skin he openly admired.

Was Draco whimpering? He didn't think so, but he locked his jaw to prevent it anyway and leaned back into Potter as the other boys licks soon traveled to his neck. "No love bites, Potter. I don't want people to see them on my neck."

"Shove it, Malfoy," came the quick response, followed by a harsh bite that was soon soothed by a swirling tongue. "I know a spell."

"What spell?" he asked softly, trying not to yelp when he felt his enemy's fingers slip into him.

"Something Hermoine showed me."

"And what's the name of the Mudblood's spell?"

That statement earned him an extra hard smack on already red cheeks. "I can't remember."

_How can his voice be so calm with all that's happening?_ Draco shook the question from his head and came up with a quick smart aleck reply. "How can you perform the spell without knowing what it is, Potter, you moron?"

"Because, Malfoy, you wanker, I know the damn spell!" Potter snapped, his voice suddenly very serious as his fingers probed higher and harder into Draco's pliable flesh. "Now lean on your elbows for me . . . There now, that's a good boy."

Draco's body shook with both anger at Potter's ability to reduce him to the role of a dog and the fact that he really wanted Potter shoved hot and tight inside of him. "Do it, Potter!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Draco heard the rustle of clothing behind him and the distinct sound of a zipper, then heard a muttered "_Slikio"_ before he felt warm liquid seeping into his body.

"Do it, Potter!"

"Are you begging for it?"

"_Yes!_"

Potter rammed into him hard. He felt his heart stop and start again with each hard thrust Potter administered and even though he felt he would die from the pain---and the pleasure---he still begged for more.

"How could I possibly have gone two weeks without this?" Potter groaned into his ear before almost breaking the pale skin of Draco's neck with his teeth. "You're so fucking hot! Meet me tomorrow. Promise!"

"I-I-I . . . p-p-p-pro-promise," Draco gasped, leaning his head against the desk as Potter continued to pound away at his sweet, defenseless little ass. "I promise."

"Mmm, Draco," Potter moaned as he lifted up the other boy's leg and set a pale knee against the desk, just to thrust into him at a better angle. "Does that feel good?"

"Y-y-yes," Draco cried out, trying to find something, anything that his hands could grip onto, but Potter grabbed each wrist and pinned them to the table.

"Does it hurt? Does it hurt like you like it?"

"Y-y-yeah! Oh, God . . . P-Potter!"

"Are you coming, you nasty bitch?!" Potter snarled, releasing one of Draco's wrists and bringing his hand up to tug harshly at the blonde's hair. "Come, you fucking slut! Come right now or I'm beating the shit out of you!"

And as if Potter had just growled the magic words into his counterpart's ear, Draco felt his knees buckle and his load suddenly shooting out of him. Potter reached down and captured Draco's balls in his hand, squeezing them tight as the boy rode out his orgasm.

"Beg for mercy!"

"Mercy!"

"Scream for mercy, bitch!"

"M-m-mercy!" Draco screamed when it all became too much. He felt Potter's smile of satisfaction against his neck as the Chosen One began to spasm inside of him. Potter tucked his hand under Draco's chin and turned the boy's head so that their lips could meet.

"That was good."

"Yes, it was," Draco agreed as the Gryffindor slipped out of him. His body suddenly felt as if it lacked something. "We're meeting tomorrow then?"

Potter nodded and lifted his wand to clean himself before slipping his trousers back up.

"A little help here, Potter," Draco snapped, seeing as the majority of the mess was on _his_ body.

"Oh, yeah." The dark-haired boy waved his wand silently in Draco's direction and the other boy was suddenly cleansed---inside and out.

"Thanks," Draco said, pulling up his own pants and walking back to the wall where Potter had ripped his shirt off. They silently got themselves back in order, avoiding eye contact as always, and---also as always---Potter was the first to make the move to leave, but this time, almost reluctantly. Draco watched the dark-haired boy's retreating back curiously as he caressed a sore spot on his neck.

"Hey Potter!"

The other boy stopped immediately and turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Er . . . Aren't you going to do the spell to clear up this love bite?"

Potter smiled sheepishly, and that alone almost made Draco's already weak knees buckle again. "Actually, about that spell . . ."

"What about it?" snapped the pale boy, just knowing that he was not going to get an answer he liked.

"I forgot it."

And with that, the Chosen One turned briskly on his heel, gave a dramatic twirl of his father's cloak, and disappeared into the dark corridor.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Be harsh, be mean, be whatever. But please, just be honest. And tell me if I used too many commas. I always use too many commas! Thanks! **–**_**DMH**_


	2. Yawn

No One's Secret to Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary**: D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th Year.

**Summary of this Chapter**: Know-it all Hermoine; Exhibitionist Harry; Confused Draco; Oh, and Madame Pince is a bitch, what can I say?

**Warnings**: Slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer**: I am _still_ not British, I am _still_ not rich, and, for goodness sakes, I am _still_ not J.K. Rowling! The only thing I own is the laptop I'm typing on and I didn't even buy that, so obviously these characters are not mine. (Breaks down and sobs shamelessly)

* * *

Chapter Two

Hermoine Granger found it hard to sit between her two best friends in the world, working---yet again---on another last minute essay. "Ronald, for the life of me, I cannot understand how you've forgotten the parts of a Whomping Willow seeing as one almost killed us third year!"

"Sorry, 'Moine," came the hopeless reply. "I just can't think straight today."

_Yawn._

"Well, Ronald, do try and focus because, as you know _m__y_ essay has been completed since---"

"Yes, 'Mione, I know! Since Professor Sprout assigned the damn thing! Thanks for throwing that in my face!"

"You exaggerate!"

"Fine, but seeing as the truth was that you did it directly after class . . ."

"Ron!"

_Yawn._

"I mean, for God's sakes, woman. You did have two weeks to do it!"

"And so _did_ you, Ronald, so why are you doing now, less than two hours before it is due?"

_Yawn._

"Oh, do shut up, Hermoine!"

_Yawn._

"Ron! Calm down---" _Yawn._ "---you're being incredibly rude---" _Yawn._ "---for absolutely no reason!"

"Well---" _Yawn._ "---you're being an insufferable---" _Yawn._ "---know-it-all that---" _YAWN!_ "Bloody hell, Harry! What's the matter, mate?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, jerking up straight and looking between his two friends through sleepy eyes and crooked glasses. "Wussup?"

"Harry, have you slept at all?" Hermoine asked, concern lacing her voice as her forehead crinkled under long brown sugar colored bangs.

"Yeah, mate. You haven't seemed yourself at all today," Ron inquired, concern also making him forget the entire argument he and Hermoine had just shared.

Harry grinned at each friend sheepishly and shook his head, both to wake himself up and reassure his friends. "I'm just a bit tired. I'll take a nap, ride my broom later, you know, to get some fresh air, and I'll be in top form in no time."

Hermoine smiled at him and reached over to grab the half finished essay lying on the table before the boy-who-lived. Ron watched her actions with an incredulous look on his face. "Well, why the bloody fuck does he get non-opinionated help!"

"Ew, Ron! 'Bloody fuck.' Bad imagery," laughed Harry.

"Well," Hermoine began, answering Ron's question. "He's Harry and sleepy."

"See! I knew you always gave him special treatment for being Harry!"

"I give _you_ special treatment for being Ron." At this statement, the two teens fell immediately silent and turned extremely red. After about five seconds of silent awkwardness, Harry burst into laughter, causing the other two to erupt in a fit of giggles. They laughter continued so long that they didn't notice when the tight, angry face of the librarian descended on them.

"May I inform you three, since Gryffindors seem so inclined to forget the rules of the library, to be quiet! Students are studying!" Madam Pince snapped before whipping her long robes behind her and stalking away, practically knocking every book the trio had on the table onto the floor with her actions.

"Geez, I wonder what has her knickers in a twist," Ron mused, watching as the librarian harassed a group of fourth years.

"Probably Filch," Harry said, his voice level and serious. There was only a brief moment of silence that couldn't even have lasted fifteen seconds before the ridiculously loud laughter of the three Gryffindors echoed throughout Madam Pince's lair.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was yawning.

Herbology had to be the most uninteresting piece of shit since the History of Magic's teacher, the ghostly Professor Binns. And what sucked the most about it had to be the fact that he was partnered with the runt of the Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom a.k.a. the Plant Dork. Draco scanned silver eyes across the inept student and guessed he was pleased that he was partnered with the bumbling fool in the only subject he was good in.

Meant less work for him.

He folded his arm and looked distastefully upon the ugly violet plant Longbottom was hopelessly working to get open and was to comment that the Gryffindor would probably have better chance using his fat ass, but was interrupted when he heard _yet_ another ripple of giggles come from everyone's favorite trio.

He frowned and tried to look away, but when the giggling started all over again, he found his eyes back on the Gryffindors. Potter was standing between his friends, a broad smile on his handsome face directed towards Weasley, but Draco knew it was intended for Granger, too. He felt an unexpected twinge of something in his chest. Surely it wasn't jealousy.

Draco's frown deepened into a right out scowl when he saw the green-eyed boy sling his arm onto his redheaded friend's shoulders. Of course he knew the Weasel only had a taste for the Mudblood, but seeing Potter so casually touch someone . . . voluntarily, without pleading and begging.

"Uh . . . Malfoy?" came a soft, nervous voice next to him. He turned his head quickly, sending chin length bangs swinging in all directions and then falling perfectly back into place.

"What?"

"Uh . . . do you mind?" Longbottom asked, looking down at his arm. Draco followed the line of the other boy's arm and saw Longbottom's problem. Draco had been gripping his wrist tightly for Lord knows how long, causing the skin to purple with lack of oxygen. "Could you let go? It hurts."

Draco loosened his long, pale fingers and put his hand flat on the table in front of him. Of course, the fat idiot beside him looked at him funny, but Draco didn't care. He just turned and looked back to the trio.

* * *

"Oi! Malfoy!"

The blonde turned and lifted his nose imperiously when he saw his pursuer was Harry. "What do you want, Potter?"

Harry lifted one ebony eyebrow at his counterpart's tone of voice, but chose not to comment on it. "Professor Sprout assigned us to be partners for our fifty inch research scroll on the effects and purposes of the Viona plant."

"I am aware of that, Potter. I was there," Malfoy sniped, hitching the bag sliding off his shoulder back up and beginning to turn away from Harry. "I just do not understand why you've chased me all the way down the hallway just to tell me that."

"Maybe because you bolted out of the greenhouse when we were dismissed from Herbology!"

"And what would be the purpose of me staying there?"

"So we could organize when to meet up to write this scroll!" Harry gasped, totally infuriated and exasperated at Malfoy's hostile attitude.

"I don't need your help, Potter," he said, spitting out his lover's name with distaste. "I'll do it myself."

"You'll write fifty inches alone, then?" Harry asked disbelievingly. Malfoy merely flipped his hair from his face and turned away to continue on to his next class. Harry huffed out a breath of frustration and looked around to see if there were many others in the hallway. When he finally established that none of these people were anyone he cared about, he rushed up to Malfoy, placed a hand o his shoulder and spun him around sharply.

"What the fuck, Potter?!" Malfoy snarled, lifting up a fist, but Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him closer so that their faces were only inches apart.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry asked, looking straight into Malfoy's angry silver eyes. The blonde tried to struggle out of the Gryffindor's grip and failed miserably.

"Well, Potter, if you must know, I'm late to Ancient Runes," Malfoy said in as steady as a voice as possible.

"Don't lie to me, you little fucker," Harry hissed, moving even closer to the boy. "Remember what lying got you last night?"

Silver eyes widened at this and Harry knew why. They were in the middle of the hallway, in the middle of the day, with students trudging back and forth to classes all around them. Red heat started to creep up the Slytherin's pale neck and ears.

"Potter! We're in the hallway. You can't---" Malfoy statement ended abruptly with a yelp when Harry started to stroke the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. "Stop it."

"No. Tell me what's wrong."

Malfoy's eyes darted around the hall frantically, worried that people might stop and look at them. Surprisingly, as Harry moved even closer, no one noticed the school's two most notorious enemies talking so closely without screaming and hurling curses at one another.

"I told you what was wrong---"

"Don't lie!" Harry snapped, his hand tightening on Malfoy's wrist, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You remember what you get for lying right?"

Malfoy nodded and his eyes fluttered closed as Harry's lips ghosted over his ear.

"Say it."

"I got a spanking," he whispered.

"Do you want another?" Harry asked, every cell in his body charged and excited at this new game he could play.

"Yes," the blonde murmured, his eyes opening and looking around for anyone to notice once again, but, like before, students just mulled past the pair. Suddenly, Harry started past the blonde and pulled him along by his wrist. "Potter! What the fuck are you---"

"Shut up! You'll see," the Boy-Who-Lived snapped. Harry's heart pumped with excitement as he pulled the other boy to the closest restroom. It took the pair less than a minute to get there and, once there, Harry flung the silver-eyed boy into the closest stall, totally ignoring the bloke standing at the urinal with his back to the door.

"There's someone in here!" Malfoy gasped, horrified as Harry closed the stall and locked it.

"He doesn't know who we are, so shut the fuck up." Harry pressed his lips against the other boy's and received a moan he felt all the way to his groin for his efforts. Malfoy's lips were so soft he observed as he took them. He licked the upper one and nibbled the other one, inciting another deep moan from his lover.

"I'm going to be l-l-late t-to Anc-ch-cient R-Ru-unes," the blonde moaned as Harry began to taste his neck. Harry ignored him and continued his assault on Malfoy's body. His fingers unclasped his counterpart's robes then pushed inside those to begin unbuttoning a crisp white shirt. The other boy's moans became louder as Harry's skillful tongue ticked his nipples. "I-I thought w-w-w-we were gonna me-e-e-et toni-ight."

"We are," Harry assured, smiling against pale flesh, knowing good and well that Malfoy was scared of being caught in the bathroom with Harry Potter's hand down his pants. Though gender was not important in terms of relationships in the wizarding world, the idea of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together would rock the school. But this risk of being caught only increased Harry's arousal.

"N-No, not here," Malfoy begged as Harry began to unbuckle his belt. Harry's head snapped up and he captured Malfoy's chin in his hand so that he could stare straight into the other boy's eyes.

"Did you just say no to me, bitch?" Before Malfoy could answer, the sound of a slap rang through the bathroom. "On your knees."

Malfoy immediately complied and looked up to Harry for his next order.

"Suck my dick."

The blonde rushed frantically to undo Harry's belt and pants and by the time of the green-eyed boy's next breath, his erection was engulfed in tight, wet heat. He groaned out loud and looked down to watch his member leave and enter Malfoy's beautiful mouth at a steady pace. The Slytherin was really too good at this, Harry thought as his thighs tightened. Much better than he, himself was.

Malfoy took his time; starting with just sucking Harry, then working his way around the boy's member with his tongue; lapping the underside of the erection with the flat of his tongue, then licking at the slit with the tip. Then Malfoy relaxed his throat and took him all the way in.

"Oh God . . . mmm . . . don't stop . . . uh, Draco, don't stop . . . mmm," Harry groaned, over and over until finally his knees buckled and he collapsed against the side of the stall with a shout. He looked down to see Malfoy smiling up at him evilly and held his hand out. "Come here."

The slightly taller boy stood face to face with Harry, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. Harry pulled him close and kissed him furiously, licking his own taste from the other boy's mouth as he did so. He ripped the long robes from Malfoy's body so that it fell onto the floor behind him, then moved quickly to pull down the silver-eyed boy's underwear and trousers.

Malfoy soon found himself spun around with Harry hands guiding his own to grip the top of the stall; this caused him to stand, bent over, with his ass in the perfect position for Harry to do anything he wanted to it. Harry smiled and sucked two fingers into his mouth, getting the good and wet for what he wanted to do with them. He carefully began to push his slick finger into Malfoy's entrance while smoothing his other hand under the other boy's shirt and unto his pale back to keep him relaxed.

"Aw, fuck!"

Malfoy pushed back against his finger, pushing it inside him, all the while groaning and muttering incoherently under his breath. Soon, Harry's other finger joined its brother inside of the Slytherin and Harry was gently pumping them in and out, occasionally brushing up against a spot that made Malfoy quiver.

"Faster," the blonde ordered.

"Beg," Harry whispered into his ear.

"Please, faster," Malfoy sobbed, pushing back against Harry's hand desperately, thoughts of getting to Ancient Runes the last thing on his mind. "Aaawww, fuck me! Fuck. P-Please P-P-Pot-t-t-t-ter!"

Harry gave in to the other boy's pleads, pumping his fingers faster and hitting Malfoy's spot harder each time, then watched in pleasure as Malfoy began to come all over himself, shooting his load onto the side of the stall. "God . . . Holy fucking shit . . ."

Harry pushed himself against the other boy and kissed the rim of his ear. "You liked that?"

"Mmm, yes."

"Good."

They dressed silently, cleaning themselves and the mess in the stall with a wave of their wands. When both were finally in a similar state they had been in before they had entered the bathroom, they stood straight and looked at one another.

"Well, I guess I'll go to the library since you made me miss half of Runes," Malfoy said calmly, carefully avoiding the clash of silver eyes against green.

"Yeah . . . I have to get to History of Magic," Harry replied awkwardly. Malfoy nodded and moved to leave the stall, but Harry suddenly saw his arm shoot out to stop him.

"What?" Malfoy asked, eyes wide with alarm. Harry opened his mouth, found nothing to say, so instead pulled the blonde into a deep kiss. When Malfoy was thoroughly snogged, he pulled away. "What was that for?"

"I'm sorry," Harry gasped out.

"For what?" Puzzlement dueled with amusement on the Slytherin's face. Harry lifted his hand and stroked it over the other by's reddened cheek.

"I slapped you."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

Malfoy shook his head in confusion, his forehead scrunching up as he tried to figure out what the big deal was. "You've slapped me before."

"Yeah, but . . ." Harry's voice trailed off and he dropped his hand and looked away with a blush. "But never on your face."

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise and he smiled slightly. "It's okay, Potter. I accept your apology."

"Thanks."

Malfoy smiled again and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against his lover's lips. Then, he pulled back and for the first time, left Harry before Harry could leave him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, now review your asses off! Lol! Oh, and thanks to you guys who assured me that I didn't use too many commas. **_-DMH_**


	3. Psychotrip

No One's Secret to Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General ****Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of this Chapter:** Nervous Pansy; Pissed-off Draco; Out of control Harry.

**Warning:** Slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling . . . Seriously, I'm not. (lol)

* * *

Chapter 3 

"Hey Draco."

The silver-eyed blonde lifted his head from the Ancient Runes book he was reading from to smile at his best friend. "Hello Pansy. How are you?"

The brunette sat down across from her friend on the other side of the library table, her big brown eyes blinking rapidly as they tended to do when she was nervous. Draco observed her actions and closed his book cautiously. It was quite obvious that she had some bad news to tell him from the undignified way she was gnawing on her bottom lip and fidgeting with the small silver hoops in her ears. When she spoke, her words sounded as if she had chose them carefully. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. What's the matter?" Draco asked, his usually smooth brow now furrowed with worry. "Did your parents find out about the 'Nott Incident'?"

She shook her head, but continued to gnaw her lips, showing him that this new problem was worse than the time she lost her virginity to Theodore and thought she might be pregnant afterward. _Oh God, what could possibly be worse than that?_ "Are you really pregnant this time?"

"No Draco! It's nothing like that!" she gasped out as if she had been keeping her stress in all day. She ignored the shushes she got from a few students sitting at the other tables surrounding them and leaned forward as if to share a secret with Draco. The blonde unconsciously leaned in himself. "They've had the talk."

Draco was so silent and still for a moment that Pansy thought he had been petrified. She even held her breath waiting for him to move, but eventually---to her relief---his silver eyes blinked once, then twice, and they both let out a long, slow breath.

"The talk?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a nod of her head. "Are you angry with me?"

He shook his head and corrected his posture, resuming the rigid position he had held only a moment before. "I'm not angry . . . with you . . . How did you find out about this?"

"I got an owl from my mother this morning. She wanted to tell me in advance. She thought I would be happy."

"I'm so sorry, Pans. It must have been my father that orchestrated this---"

She cut him off by lifting up a slender, manicured hand. "No, I'm pretty sure it was all of them who organized this . . . this debacle."

The two friends sat silently for a moment, neither one quite sure what to say, so they chose to say nothing. Instead they found nonexistent loose threads on their robes to pick at absently, tongues to chew on thoughtfully, and many pieces of dust to watch with interest. Draco suddenly made a move to open his book again, but instead slammed it on the table, causing Pansy to jump almost a foot into the air and another shush to channel through the room.

"What the bloody hell---"

"Draco! Draco, please calm down, luv!"

"---gives _them_ the _right_---"

"Draco, why are you standing?"

"---to even _think_---"

"God, Draco! You're scaring me!"

"---that they can control every aspect of _my_ goddamn life---"

"Third years are staring, Draco!"

"---I'm _seventeen_! I should be able to choose for myself---"

"Yes, luv, we all know this, but please do shut up!"

"No, Pansy! I will not live the rest of my life under the thumb of Lucius Malfoy!" Draco snapped, his silver eyes hardening into steel and with that last line, he charged out of the library leaving a load of gaping students and a very exasperated Pansy behind.

* * *

"Hello Harry." 

Harry looked up from his lunch of a ham sandwich and crisps to his girlfriend. "Hey Ginny."

"Hi," she repeated, sitting across from him and looking at him expectantly. They stared at each other for a long moment, green eyes almost warring with blue until Harry put down the pickle he was munching on and cleared his throat.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

Awkward silence.

"Do you need something?"

"Am I not allowed to sit with my boyfriend at lunch, Harry?"

"Well, you're not eating and kind of just sitting there and staring---"

"Where were you today?" she suddenly snapped out, flipping her hair so that it swirled behind her in a silky red halo before settling into a auburn curtain down her back. "I was waiting at the pitch!"

"The Quidditch pitch?" he asked stupidly.

"What other pitch is there, Harry!" she huffed out, but her eyes twinkled up at him, so he wasn't worried. She'd be laughing in a moment. "Please tell me you didn't forget."

Awkward silence.

"You forgot."

"Yeeeaaah. What was I suppose to do?"

"You were supposed to help me with those new maneuvers for the upcoming Hufflepuff match."

Her lips were twitching and she had stolen a few of his crisps, so she wasn't angry despite her tone. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned over the table so that he could grasp her hands in his. "When was I supposed to do this?"

"Har-ry," she groaned. "How can you not remember? It was just yesterday when you promised! You were to meet me after your Herbology class when we had a free period, remember?"

"Free period after Herbology, huh?" She nodded and he felt a pang of guilt . . . Actually not a pang, more like a sledgehammer of guilt that had been pounding on him ever since he and Ginny had begun this relationship. Ginny was really sweet. So sweet, in fact, that he felt he couldn't be around her at all times. He was going to hurt her. He just knew it. He was going to say something or do something to ruin everything or one day he would touch her in a way that could change absolutely everything.

Would she be holding his hands like this if she knew where they had been only an hour ago? Would she smile at him? Would she even look at him?

"How about . . . tomorrow's Saturday, right?"

"Tomorrow is Friday, Harry," she said, managing to keep her face straight, but failing to get the giggles out of her voice. "But go on."

"Okay, so Saturday . . . which is the day _after_ tomorrow, I will take you onto the pitch, the _Quidditch_ pitch!" he corrected quickly when Ginny erupted into a fit of giggles. "And show you any and every maneuver you want to see. First thing on Saturday."

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him. Her lips softly explored his, tasting gently and making him feel like he was being carried on a sigh. No one could kiss him like Ginny.

"First thing on Saturday, Harry."

"I'll write it down on everything, Gin. Don't worry, I will not forget."

She smiled and kissed him again, then stood and walked from the hall. His eyes never left her until she disappeared behind the giant doors. Once she was gone, he turned his head and his eyes locked briefly with cool silver ones. He diverted his glance quickly and looked back to his meal.

Yeah, no one could kiss him like Ginny.

Well . . . almost no one.

* * *

Draco was still pissed about what his and Pansy's parents had done by the time he reached lunch, but he was soon distracted from it when he saw Potter talking to his Weasel bitch. He rolled his eyes and tried to look away, but every time he found something interesting to watch, such as Goyle choking on his pumpkin juice, he would catch of glimmer of red-gold in the corner of his eye or the flash of Potter's broad white smile and jealousy---hot and sharp---would course through his veins. 

Potter never smiled at him like that.

The smiles he received were sadistic, spiteful, sarcastic, and . . . and empty.

He looked away as the Weasel girl flounced back from whence she came, but his eyes slid back to the unruly-haired Gryffindor. Their eyes locked and he looked away quickly, redness spreading from his neck to his ears. Potter saw him looking.

_Potter_ saw _him_ looking!

How could he possibly explain that? How could he explain that he was so concerned with Potter and his . . . _girlfriend_ that he actually watched them from across the hall? He had no excuse. He was pathetic. He was a hopeless dreamer, always wanting things he couldn't have. He shivered in shame and placed his head in his hands.

"Draco, is this about . . . er . . . that thing I told you?"

He looked up to see Pansy blocking his view of Potter and shook his head to the only person that knew almost everything there was to know about him. She frowned and turned slowly to see what he saw and scowled when she saw what he saw.

"This is about _him_?"

His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the sleeve of her robe. He tugged it and pulled her down so he could whisper, "Yes! He caught me looking at him and the Weasel girl. I think he knows."

"Shut up, Draco," she snapped, frowning at him and snatching her robe back in the process. "I swear, sometimes you're more of a girl than I am. He does not _know_, no one knows, you imbecile!"

"Shut up, Pans. He knows!"

"Maybe he just thought you were looking at him because you've been fucking him for the past---" Pansy's sentence never ended, seeing as Draco stood up and left, leaving Pansy's opinions and her spelled shut mouth behind.

* * *

"Not like that, Potter. You're not doing it right." 

"Shut the fuck up! I know how to get in, Malfoy, I've been doing it since fifth year!"

"Doesn't seem like it now---OW! That hurt!"

"I said shut the fuck up!"

Emerald eyes glared into silver. Neither blinking. Neither wavering. Neither even daring to look away.

Malfoy finally sighed deeply, giving in like he always did. "Fine, Potter, do whatever the hell you want to do. Just don't punch me again."

Harry watched as the tall blonde waltz across the hall to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his team of pirouetting trolls before turning back to the door that _still_ refused him. He took a deep breath and tried again. Walking past the door three times, he thought to himself, _'I need a place to be with Malfoy. I need a place to be with Malfoy. I need a place to be with Malfoy . . .'_ He reached out, turned the knob, and . . .

Broom closet.

Again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Malfoy rasped out, pushing Harry away from the door. He slammed it shut and in his haughtiest voice announced, "I need a place to fuck Potter to bloody pieces!" And when he reached out and opened the door . . .

Bedroom.

Life just had to suck when Draco Malfoy's will was chosen over his own.

"How the---" Harry tried to ask, but the blonde was already pulling him into the ivory room. The door was shut behind him and soon he was on the floor, under Malfoy's hard, hungry body. Malfoy's hands were everywhere, tearing his shirt off, yanking his pants down in their frantic search for skin. "Malfoy! What's with the---"

"I need this, Potter. You have no idea what my day's been like," the Slytherin said between mouthfuls of Harry's skin.

"Careful, Malfoy! I don't want---"

Malfoy growled, but released the skin of Harry's neck nonetheless. "Yes, I know, Potter. You don't want your precious Weasel _bitch_ to see the marks."

"Don't call her---" Harry just couldn't seem to finish a sentence. The blonde's mouth, either his words or his tongue, would cut him off every time he tried to speak. "Sto---"

"Fuck me, Potter. Fuck me now," the blonde begged desperately, straddling Harry's hips and tugging off his own shirt. "I need you."

"Malfoy, why---"

"I'll tell you after, just . . . just now, I need you inside me. Alright?" Harry looked into his rival's wary, desperate eyes. Malfoy was sitting in his lap, rubbing himself against Harry as a tempting sacrifice, and all the green-eyed boy could do was gape at his lover. "Potter?"

"I can't do this."

Malfoy was taken aback for a moment; he sat up a little straighter in Harry's lap and leaned in close to look the boy straight in his eyes. "What did you just say to me?"

Harry's gaze never faltered. "I said I can't do this. Not this way."

"Which way?"

"With you in control. I don't like it and---"

"You don't like it! I don't bloody care if you---" Suddenly Malfoy found himself sprawled out on the hard floor beneath him with what appeared to be a very, very angry Harry Potter sitting on his chest.

"Shut up, bitch, I wasn't finished talking." The silver-eyed blonde's entire being shook as he heard that tone of voice. "I don't like it and refuse to let the likes of _you_ reduce me to the role you currently occupy."

"And what role is this?" the other boy asked carefully, his breathing erratic and hard. Harry smiled and sadistically ground his hips hard into Malfoy's chest, further depleting the boy of air.

"My bitch, of course." Before Malfoy could even respond, Harry had him flat on his stomach and was pushing against his sweet ass. "What was the point of making this great big room---with a bed, if I might add---if you intended to maul me as soon as we got into here, anyway?"

Malfoy groaned and grinded his behind further onto the hardness at the front of Harry's boxers before giving his answer. "You . . . Oh God . . . You seemed to want a bedroom . . ."

"So you made this room for me?" the Gryffindor asked, nibbling the pale boy's ear.

"Of course it's for you. I'm not very particular about where you fuck me."

"You were this morning." When Malfoy didn't answer, Harry rolled off of him and onto his back. He stared at the ivory ceiling of the invented room and began to count the crystals he saw in the glorious chandelier just to avoid looking at his lover. "I'm really sorry about that."

"You already apologized."

"I know, but I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have hit you . . . I shouldn't have even taken you in there. You said no and you were reluctant and I made you late to Arithmancy---"

"Ancient Runes," Malfoy corrected, playing with the carpet fibers below him.

"Whatever . . . I'm just really sorry."

"I already forgave you."

"I know, but---"

"Shut up," the blonde snarled, sitting up on his elbows so that he could look down on Harry condescendingly. "I forgave you for slapping me even though it totally helped me get off."

Harry finally took his gaze away from the crystals and looked into silver eyes. "Yeah, about that, why do you get off on getting spankings?"

"Why do you get off on giving spankings?" Malfoy snapped back.

"I think it's because of your father," Harry continued as if the other boy had never spoken.

"Father? You're saying that I get off because of my . . . That's sick!"

"I didn't say _that_," Harry stressed. "I just have a theory."

The Slytherin made a big show of sitting up and folding his legs before putting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, looking expectantly for Harry to continue."Oh, do share this theory, Potter."

"I'm guessing you're father wasn't the really touchy-feely type of dad, so probably the only time he ever touched you or even got close to you was to punish with spankings when you misbehaved."

"What are you, one of those Muggle psycho-trips?" Malfoy asked, his face scrunched up in frustration.

"Psycho-trips? Oh, you mean 'psychiatrists'?" Harry laughed. "Shut up. I was just giving a theory, not psychoanalyzing you."

"Maybe I should psychoanalyze you," Malfoy suggested, licking his lips and trailing a hand down Harry's smooth, naked chest. He leaned in to lick softly at his dark-haired lover's lips. "Maybe we should get to the bottom of _your_ spanking fetish."

"Maybe you should just get to the bottom," Harry suggested, his voice dropping down to that low octave that gave Malfoy chills. The blonde brought his mouth to the points of Harry's body that he knew always made the other boy incredibly hot; under his chin, his collarbone, his nipple, his naval . . . Malfoy spent a lot of time at his naval, trailing his tongue back and forth across the thin strip of dark hair Harry had that led to the glorious joy between his legs.

The Gryffindor jolted when a pale hand found its way into his boxers and cool fingers cupped him. His gaze was back on the grand chandelier as those expert fingers began to pump his hot flesh. "Mmm . . . yeah, like that . . ."

"Maybe you do it because you lack control," Malfoy mused, sitting up straight again and stopping his hand just as Harry's eyes glazed and rolled back.

Harry's eyes rolled forward to their original position and shot his rival a death glare. "What the fuck are you doing, asshole! Finish me off!"

Malfoy merely shook his head distractedly and pulled his hand from the other boy's underwear. "I said, maybe you like spanking me so much because you lack control."

"Are you saying I'm out of control?" Harry asked, his voice carefully strained as he felt like he was going to burst and attack the blonde any second now for stopping. He did not want to talk right now, let alone on previous reasons he got off when he wasn't getting off at the moment. But he decided to humor Malfoy anyway.

"Not the way you put it. I don't mean you can't control yourself, I just mean that you cannot control your life and the things that happened to you. All your life had been mapped out for you by Dumbledore and so many people have had expectations of you that you have had to uphold. You practically had no choice but to defeat the Dark Lord because of that prophecy and even now, in your seventh year with the Dark Lord dead and gone, you still have the people's expectations to uphold. Everyone expects you to become an auror, so of course, you will become one. I assume that your girlfriend and best friends have expectations of what you should do with your present and your future as well as many of the teachers here. Everyone expects so much of you and it's beginning to rule your life and you just have to grin and bear it, so the only time you have an outlet for anger and violence and the only time you have complete control of something is when you're with me. And that's probably why you enjoy giving me spankings so much."

"And you thought of all this while you were giving me a hand-job and licking my nipples?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," the other boy said simply, looking at Harry with his big silver eyes as if he wanted further discussion. Harry sighed deeply and gave his lover a highly exasperated look.

"Can we just fuck now?"

Malfoy reddened and nodded quickly, turning away from Harry and pulling his trousers down. Soon the Gryffindor was inside him, pumping gloriously in and out of his tight, lubricated ass, hitting his spot perfectly. They both remained silent, but Malfoy had no time to think about the absence of Harry's usually extreme outspokenness during sex since he was so close to coming. Suddenly, Harry pulled out and stood up, dragging the paler boy with him and he led Malfoy to the bed. The green-eyed boy kneeled in the center of the bed and adjusted Malfoy so that he was flat on his stomach with the front of his thighs on top of Harry's. The Gryffindor plunged back into the other boy so fiercely that Malfoy cried out the loudest he had ever heard him.

"Did I hurt you?"

"F-f-f-fuck, Pot-t-t-ter! Oh God!" the blonde moaned, thrusting himself back further onto Harry's dick. The Slytherin adjusted himself so that he was leaning up on one elbow and stroking his own erection with is free hand as Harry pounded into him. "D-d-d-d-don't ssssstop!"

Harry began giving the other boy harder, faster strokes that had Malfoy scrambling to get a pillow to hold onto and bite. Soon, the blonde was coming, his weeping erection releasing itself on the soft ivory sheets underneath him, but he continued to ride his wave of pleasure for what seemed to be millennia because the Chosen One was hitting his spot so precisely, over and over again.

Finally, Harry sunk a hand into his rival's smooth, silky hair and thrust out his own orgasm; his thighs shaking from the pleasure.

"Oh God . . . Draco . . ." Harry opened his eyes to see that his glasses were steamed up and sweat was dripping from his hair onto Malfoy's own damp back. He leaned forward and licked salty drops from between his lover's shoulder blades. "Mmm . . . that was so good . . . You feel so good, baby."

"Yeah . . . Mmm . . . Sorry, Potter, I'm sleepy . . ."

"Well, sit up and I'll clean us up," Harry suggested, slipping out of the still trembling boy below him and sitting up straight. He casually stroked his fingers across the pale back. "You can have a quick wink and I'll wake you up so you can get back to your dorm, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks . . ."

Harry stood and crossed the room to search through his and Malfoy's clothing to find his wand. When he finally did, he waved it over himself, Malfoy and the bed and settled into the freshly clean four-poster to snuggle with his silver lover. He had never shared a bed with Malfoy before and he found that rather enjoyed the smooth sensation of the other boy's skin on his, even when they were not having sex. Malfoy turned towards him and snuggled deep into his arms and the blankets, a sweet smile of contentment on his face. Harry traced a finger over the silky silver fans Malfoy's eyelashes created on his cheeks and wondered quietly what the hell was wrong with him.

Why was he still in this room?

Why was he watching Malfoy sleep?

Why was this unfamiliar rush of emotion taking up so much room in his chest and throat?

Harry pushed the feelings back and tried hard to think of other things. Quidditch . . . no, not that. Made him think of Ginny. Wizard's chess . . . no. Made him think of Ron, which in turn made him think of Ginny. Homework . . . nope, still Ginny. This wasn't working, so he opted to just stare at the beauty of the boy before him.

His gaze traced over smooth silver-blond strands that haloed a face that angels would envy. Harry wished his eyes to be open so he could experience the piercing silver gaze that rivaled the shine of a diamond, then he remembered how wary those eyes had been over an hour before.

"Malfoy, you awake?" he whispered quietly into the other boy's ear.

"Hmm?"

"What was wrong earlier?"

"What?" the blonde asked sleepily, his eyes still closed.

"Remember when you said you would tell me after? What were you going to tell me?" The blonde snuggled even closer, his smooth cheek rubbing against Harry's nipple ever so sweetly until Harry wanted to capture his mouth and devour him over and over again. "What were you going to tell me, baby?"

"Mmm . . . Pansy and I are engaged," the sweet blond murmured into Harry's chest. "Our parents decided this morning."

And with a large yawn, Malfoy fell back into sleep and left Harry feeling desperately restless and alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Betcha hardly saw that one coming! Well, maybe the engagement thing 'cause I thought I made that pretty obvious with the conversation between Draco and Pansy, but I betcha didn't think Harry was with Ginny in this fanfic. Well, he is! Muah Ha Ha Ha! Anyway, **SasuNaruJunkie** mentioned that that guy in the bathroom from the last chapter may or may not have heard them use one another's names. I did not think of that, but I'm thinking of it now . . . Anyway, this is super longer (well, not that much longer. It seems longer to me at least) than any other chapter or even my one-shots (or some of my one-shots combined), so tell me if you like the super long 4,000 word chapters or shorter ones. Anyway (I have to stop using the word "anyway") Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review! _**-DMH**_


	4. Touch

No One's Secret to Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of this Chapter:** Sleepy Harry; Aching Draco; Crying Author.

**Warning:** Slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling . . . Seriously, I'm not. (lol)

* * *

Chapter 4

When Draco woke up, he felt long, warm fingers smoothing up and down his spine. He felt a hard chest cushioning his cheek. He felt warm breath fluttering the hair on his head. And he knew, almost immediately, that this had to be a dream.

He moved his head slightly, so he could look up at the man that was cradling him so gently. Potter was staring up at the dark ceiling, absentmindedly running his fingers this place and that on Draco's body and the blond watched in amazement.

He was in a bed with his lover.

It was almost as if they were really . . . Draco refused to acknowledge what this instance was like. Instead, he narrowed it down to just a dream and snuggled deeper into the warm body holding him. Potter's arms tightened around him and he felt a kiss brush his forehead. "I should wake you up, shouldn't I?"

Draco remained silent and just allowed his lover to thread his fingers into his hair. "I don't want to wake you up. I want to let you sleep. I want you just to stay pressed up against me, warm and . . . Damn, I can't think of another word. You're really warm."

Potter spoke as if Draco didn't have ears, but---Draco reasoned---the Gryffindor must really think he was asleep. If he really did know how wide awake the blonde boy really was, he wouldn't be talking the sweet gibberish he was now.

"You feel so good," the dark-haired boy murmured against the top of Draco's pale head. "Your skin is so smooth. Everything about you is smooth. Your voice, your words . . . this skin . . . God, this skin."

Draco bit his lips hard to stop himself from shivering when Potter's fingers skated over the skin at the sensitive small of his back. He didn't want Potter to realize he was awake, thus ending his sleepy, incoherent whispers.

"I need some sleep. It's almost three; we should get back to our dorms. I need to wake you up and tell you to get back, but if I wake you up, I'll just touch you."

_Please, dear God, let him wake me up._

"I don't want to touch you like that." Harry whispered, his voice even softer than before. Draco risked turning his face slightly to look at his lover's face and saw that Potter was once again staring at the ceiling, his glasses sitting on top of his head, a look of confusion on his face. "Why do I want to touch you like that?"

_Like what? Like what, you prick!_

Draco could feel the heart in his chest pounding so hard he thought it wanted to get out. Potter's hands were now running purposelessly across his body, exploring and unintentionally arousing him. The Chosen One's warm breath was blowing his hair gently back and forth, which only further aroused him. And that voice. Potter's sleepy voice, saying all those pointless words, almost incomprehensible, and yet it made him want to rut on the bed.

And suddenly his source of sexual excitement---and eventual sexual fulfillment---was pulling away from him and climbing out of the bed. He automatically sat up straight and glared at the green-eyed boy who stared back at him in surprise. "Where the hell are you going?"

"To bed," Potter practically yawned. "How long have you been awake?"

Draco could have cursed at how perceptive Potter was even when he looked as if he would fall over from being sleep deprived. "Since you moved so abruptly and had my head hit this hard mattress."

Emerald eyes narrowed; they both knew good and well that the bed wasn't hard, but Potter didn't press it. "Well, since you're awake, Malfoy, I don't have to worry about waking you, so I'm going back to my dormitory."

"No."

Potter lifted the glasses from the top of his hair and put them on the tip of his nose so he could get a good look at the Slytherin. "No?"

"No, I'm not done with you yet."

An ebony eyebrow lifted over the black frame of his glasses as the dark-haired boy sauntered back over to the bed. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked and rose up on his knees, allowing the sheet to slip from his naked body and pool around his thighs. He edged his way to where the other boy stood and wrapped long, pale arms around his rival's bare shoulders. "Come and touch me."

Potter groaned so deep in his throat that it sounded like a growl and he pushed Draco flat onto his back with the force of his kiss. The kiss was tangy; a result of Draco sleeping, but that didn't defer Potter from trying to stick his entire tongue into the other boy's mouth. The Slytherin has to focus on not drowning in Potter, alternating breaths with moans as the Boy-who-lived explored every inch of his mouth. He held on to the other boy tightly; his arms and legs wrapped around the Gryffindor with a strength that rivaled an anaconda.

When his mouth was finally released, the blonde found himself panting as Potter's lips and tongue trailed down to his neck, nipping and licking at the purplish mark he had left nights before. Potter's long fingers were tangled in the pale hair, tugging gently, softly as the urgency in his touches slowed.

Gasps could be heard as a pink tongue ran slowly across a pale collarbone. The boy's body arched against the wonderful mouth just as it began to suck softly. Erection rubbed against erection teasingly. Fingers intertwined. Legs became tangled. Names were called.

"Tell me about my skin, Harry."

"So soft," the boy moaned against his ear. "So smooth. So fucking . . . warm . . ."

Their bodies rubbed against one another gently, slowly, as if every cell of their skin had to make contact at least once.

"God."

"Harry, touch me."

"Like this?"

"Mmm . . . yes. Again."

"Again? Here?"

"Oh . . . yesssss . . . Harry . . . Harry . . ."

Draco pulled the dark-haired boy's head down to his so he could take those soft lips that loved to torture him so. The kiss was almost chaste; it felt like satin sliding across silk. Finally, a mouth opened and the tip of a tongue peeked out to play with the tip of a top lip a moment before sucking it in. The blonde gasped as the ebony-haired boy lifted pale legs to his shoulders.

"Harry," he groaned as his lover pressed against his entrance. The Gryffindor leaned forward to kiss him causing his knees to practically push against his shoulders, but he barely felt it. Instead, he moaned as his tongue played with his partner's; tangling and tasting all at once. "Harry."

"So warm . . . Hot," the boy moaned, pressing against the tight cave he wanted so badly to thrust into. He leaned forward again for another kiss, holding Draco's legs in place with his arms, and causing his glasses to slip down his nose and tap Draco against the forehead. The blonde laughed and lifted a hand to pull the glasses away. His light laughter soon died when pure emerald pierced into pure silver.

"Harry," he gritted out, arching his back so that the head of his lover's erection began to penetrate. He heard the other boy's gasp, saw the pleasure in his eyes, felt the hand tighten in his hair, tasted the sweet breath breezing across his lips. Never before had they gone this slowly. Never before had they experienced each other in this position. Never before had they looked into one another's eyes during this moment . . .

Something flashed in those emerald eyes and for a moment, everything stopped. Draco's body was poised and ready for loving, just waiting for the hot erection to push past that first tight ring of muscle, but his lover's body refused to move. Silver looked desperately to emerald, but the green eyes looked away.

"Harry?"

"No."

"Harry, don't," the blonde insisted, tightening his hold on the other boy.

"No . . . I can't," Potter gasped, wrenching himself away. "Not like this."

Draco's arms still remained around his rival's shaking shoulders in an effort to pull him back, but Potter shrugged them off with ease and swung himself off of the bed. The blonde flung himself into the other boy's arms, desperate kisses and touches following that moment, but not being answered. Potter pushed him away once again.

"Touch me."

"I can't!" the green-eyed teen snapped out, snatching his pants from the floor. "You heard me say I couldn't touch you that way!"

"What way?" the other shouted, flipping his head to shake the hair from his eyes. "What _fucking_ way?"

"T-that way. I can't touch you _that_ way. We can't be like that," was his reply. Potter ran a shaking hand through his hair and lifted the rest of his clothing into his arms. Draco stood, unabashed at his naked state and walked to the man who stared at him with a pleading expression.

"Why?" he asked simply, pushing the clothing out of Potter's arms and replacing them with his body. "You want me. You want to touch me. Just. Like. _That_. Admit it."

"No," Potter breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly against Draco's as their faces moved closer. "No. No. No. No. No . . ."

Lips met, neither knew for how long until Draco was being pushed away again, this time with enough force to make him fall back onto the bed. "Harry?"

"Stop it! We can't . . . I can't . . . Fuck!" Potter reached down and pulled his shirt back on, not even bothering to button it back up again, and pushed his sockless feet into his trainers. "Fuck! Draco . . . Malfoy, we can't do this."

"Why?" Draco asked through clenched teeth, trying desperately not to let the tears balancing precariously on the tip of his eyelids to fall. "Why, Potter? Why can't we? Why can't you fucking touch me the way I know you want to?"

"Because you're not Ginny!"

Draco flinched violently at the mention of her name. His mouth went bone dry. A single tear fell.

"I can't touch you the way I touch her," Potter told him, tears falling from his own eyes. He rushed to the other boy and cupped his pale face in both hands. "Don't you understand? We can't . . . I don't want to cheat on Ginny . . . I love her, Draco."

Dull silver eyes closed, unable to look at emerald, but he didn't pull away, just relished the feeling of soft thumbs brushing the wetness from his cheeks.

"You need to understand . . . and . . . and you're getting married." The blonde pulled away then, anger pushing past the pain. "We can't . . . be like this. You know that . . . I just . . . I wish . . ."

Draco never did find out what Potter wished for; the boy pulled away from him abruptly, pulled his pile of robes up from the floor and rushed out the door of the room without another word. Draco sat on the bed, ashamed in his nakedness, in the middle of that now unnecessary ivory room, the light of its sparkling chandelier emphasizing the silver tears on his cheeks as he reached across the bed to pick up the glasses his lover had left behind.

_You're not Ginny!_

The satisfying sound of broken glass echoed through the room as the thin black frames crashed against the wall.

"Don't you think I fucking know that?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** And after that big long speech about me writing longer chapters, I give you this one. Sorry, but I didn't think that anything else besides this scene needed to be in this chapter. Maybe I could add more onto it and repost the chapter. What do you think I should include? Did I leave anything out? Anyway (there I go again with more of that word) Anyway, I have no idea what I'm doing with this story. I wanted this scene to come at least two chapters later, but I just started typing and this is what happened. Oh well, I guess it adds more drama. (I love drama!) Hey, how long do you think this story should be because I could see it going on for a long freaking time and the thought almost scares me? (I get really bad writer's block!) Anyway (), tell me what you think. Thanks! _**-DMH**_


	5. Goodbye

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of this Chapter:** Whining Draco; Angry Lucius; Torn Harry.

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** (huffs heavily) Yeah yeah yeah. We all know that I'm not J.K. Rowling! Yadda yadda yadda, whatever.

* * *

Chapter Five

Harry rushed away from the Room of Requirement trying hard not to turn back; trying hard not to envision that sweet angel in his arms, begging for satisfaction, silver eyes yearning for his attention and something more. He wanted so badly to turn back; to turn and crawl back into that bed, to lick up the tears, to touch that trembling body until it was stable.

He frantically rubbed at his mouth, trying to pull the taste from his mouth, to take the remnants of the ethereal moment from his tongue. He even attempted to focus on the salty taste of his own tears, but to no avail.

It wasn't until seven in the morning that Harry crept back into his dormitory. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to stop racing. Even now, as he stood under the warm spray of the shower, even after hours of aimlessly wandering the school corridors, he couldn't help but think of what he had left behind.

He had tried giving himself several variations of a pep talk. _'It's good, Harry, that this ended.' 'You don't want to end up doing something you'd regret.' 'It's for the best__.' __'Better__ to end it now then to end it when your feelings are involved.'_ And, as these thoughts trailed through his mind, one after another, one single image remained constant through it all;

A pale, angelic face. Pale, silver eyes. Pale, silver tears.

He reached out to grasp the shower handle, turning his wrist, and shutting off the warm water. He could only hope that the now ice cold spray could wash away all thought.

Or, at the least, freeze and numb his heart.

* * *

"Hello Draco."

"Hello Pans," the blonde answered back solemnly to his best friend. "You look nice."

She looked down at the pale pink dress she wore under a silky black robe. "If you say so. You know how I detest the color pink. It's just that Mother loves this dress and insists that I wear it every time I see her during the school year."

"Must you do everything Mummy tells you to, Pans?" he teased, the corner of his mouth curving up even as his tone held absolutely no humor. She choked out her own humorless laugh and held out a pale hand for him to clasp. He gladly accepted it and gave a slight squeeze to show his gratitude for the gesture of mutual comfort. "Are you ready to go?"

"The question is, are you ready to go?" she asked, arching a perfect brow. "You're the one who sent the angered letter."

"I know, but I didn't really intend to send it. I was blinded by rage and the next thing I know, I get a letter back from Father saying that he's coming to visit."

The brunette sighed deeply and took their cupped hands and covered them with another of hers. "Well, we best be off. You know how Mummy gets when people are late."

Draco nodded and began the slow solemn stroll from their dungeon dwelling to the headmaster's office.

* * *

The news of Draco Malfoy's and Pansy Parkinson's pending engagement was already rolling through the school, the juiciest bit of gossip in the weeks since the school year began. Everywhere one turned, there were whispers of the arranged situation or the ceremony that was soon to be announced or the dress or . . .

So many rumors and it was killing Harry inside.

Everywhere _he_ turned, he heard of his lover's happiness and excitement over his future union and he wanted to throw up. He had taken to scowling that morning; it was a quite pleasant pastime, in fact. It kept people who wanted to talk to him away and it also provided a twenty-four hour outlet for his feelings without him having to break anything. Two benefits in one!

However, his two best friends and his girlfriend couldn't quite grasp the benefits of scowling and he was left under the constant scrutiny and assault of the three. Well, actually, two; Ron, like the good best friend he was, had adapted to Harry's mood and---even though he had no idea why---scowled right along with him. Hermione, however, was the problem.

"Where are your glasses?" she inquired when she noticed him pushing his nose against his Charms book to make out the word "confuse". He scowled, as he had the entire day, and put down the book to squint at the amber-eyed girl.

"I dunno."

"Did you lose them?"

"Well, Hermione," he began, the heat that already clouded his voice causing the redhead beside him to tense up. "When one tends to not know where their possession is, one would call that lost."

"Well, Harry," Hermione snapped back, causing the redhead's back to go completely rigid. "When one tends to be rude to the only people who are willing to put up with him today, one would call that being an ass!"

Harry didn't even have to squint to make out the angry expression on his friend's face, so he opted to turn back to his textbook and sigh. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I am being a total ass."

"I agree," Ron interjected, earning a squinted glare. "Well, you said it first!"

Harry shook his head and smiled at the reddish blur that was his friend. "I have no idea where my glasses are."

"Maybe before class starts, we can take you to Madam Pomfrey and have her cast a twelve hour vision spell so you can see properly today," Hermione said sweetly, smiling widely so her friend could make it out and smile back.

"Good idea, but I hate those spells. They make my eyes so dry and itchy," Harry said, standing, turning, and promptly bumping into someone else. "Sorry."

"So, you're finally done being a grouch?" He smiled at Ginny's tone and nodded. "Good."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. As soon as their lips made contact, a rush of emotions hazed every thought in his mind, and not all were good. He tried hard to focus on the good and deepened the kiss, very much to Ron's very verbal dismay. They both ignored the extremely loud "UGH!" and continued their method of making up. His tongue flicked out to tease her lips and she moaned and sagged against him, earning a few whoops and whistles throughout the room. The redhead finally pulled back and gaped at her half-blind boyfriend. "Harry! Wow!"

He smiled sheepishly and colored faintly. "Do you think you can take me to the hospital ward before you go to class?"

"After that, Mister Potter, I'd do anything."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was not pleased.

Yes, he smiled and participated in good natured conversation with the Parkinson's as well as the headmaster, but as soon as his son walked into the room, the young blonde could sense the heat of anger radiating off his father in waves. He actually gulped. Audibly.

"Hello, Father. Mother," Draco announced more than greeted just so everyone knew of his and Pansy's prescence in the room. Two blonde heads, two dark heads, and a head of white turned toward the doorway. Dark grey eyes seemed to burn red for a moment before casually curved lips opened to make Draco feel extremely guilty.

However, Albus Dumbledore clapped his hands together and stood before Lucius could let his caustic statement out. "Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, so happy that you've both received my owl with the password for this office. Come, we have much to discuss."

The elder wizard pulled out his wand and with a flourish of it, two plushy chairs were conjured from thin air. The young pair sat and stared, waiting to be addressed.

And Lucius was all too happy to address them.

"Draco, please tell Miss Parkinson's parents what you told me," the Malfoy patriarch suggested politely, gesturing to the glowering pair.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy," his friend's mother simpered, her eyes tracing up and down his frame as if he were vermin. "Please explain to us why you do not wish to marry our darling daughter."

"I'm not ready," he blurted, seeing as it was the first excuse to pop into his head. Pansy dropped her head into her hands.

"Sit up straight, darling," Mrs. Parkinson ordered without looking away from Draco; Pansy's spine straightening before she could even finish the short statement. "Not ready? Pansy, dear, are you ready to marry young Draco, here?"

At the scrutiny of every eye in the room, the brunette went bright red and nodded hastily. Draco sighed; apparently getting out of this engagement was a job left up to him. He turned his gaze to his father, who sneered at him in triumph.

"Why are you not ready, Draco?" Lucius asked quietly; the look in his eyes daring his son to defy him. "It was clear that you were fully aware of what you agreed to when you were fifteen."

"I agreed to _consider_ marrying Pansy when I was fifteen. I considered it," the young blonde replied, "and I don't want to."

"You don't _want_ to?" Lucius hissed through straight, white teeth. "We are talking about the bonding of two very strong and influential wizarding families here, and you are defying hundreds of years of tradition because you don't _want_ to get married?"

"Lucius, dear, calm down," Narcissa sighed, patting her husband on his tense arm, knowing that he wasn't going to listen.

"No, Narcissa, what we have here is the last Malfoy heir, spoiled and blinded by the importance of his title." Lucius rose from his chair---sneer in place, a single eyebrow lifted imperiously---and moved to tower over Draco's seated frame. "Hold out your right arm."

"Lucius! That's not necessary!" Narcissa protested, rising from her own seat.

"Apparently it is, darling," the elder Malfoy inferred, his gaze growing darker as he continued to look down on his son.

"Are you doing what I think you are, Lucius?" Mrs. Parkinson inquired; her voice flat and disinterest in her gaze as she watched on.

"Why, yes I am, Violet," he confirmed, his sneer beginning to dominate his face.

"What are you doing, Father?" Draco asked, refusing to let panic lace his voice as he realized he couldn't move from his seat.

"Hold out your right arm."

"I disagree with your methods, Lucius," the headmaster interjected calmly from behind his large desk. Lucius turned to him and nodded respectfully.

"I doubted that you would agree, Albus, but seeing as this is my son and I've yet to hear protest from the Parkinson's, I'm going to have to ask you to mind your own damn business."

"Lucius!" Narcissa gasped.

"Hold out your right arm, boy," he hissed to his son. Draco lifted his arm, recognizing his father's unforgiving tone of voice and complying to it immediately. Lucius smiled appreciatively and lifted his wand. He seemed to be tracing a Celtic design in the air above his son's wrist and they all look curiously on to see what would happen next. Lucius closed his eyes and murmured, "_Matrimonforzio_." Draco cried out as his father's invisible design suddenly glowed purple and lowered itself to burn into his skin. The design glowed purple, then black on the skin of his wrist before disappearing, leaving only the pain behind. "Pansy, hold out your left arm, please."

Her eyes widened at Lucius' suggestion and she clutched her arm to her chest. "What did you just do to Draco?!"

The man turned his attention back to his son who was whining and whimpering over his aching wrist. "It's not even all of that, boy. Calm down and suck it up." He turned towards the Parkinson's and lifted his wand and eyebrow in question.

"Hold up your wrist, Pansy," Mr. Parkinson ordered, saying his first words since they all had settled in the room.

"Yes, Father," she sighed, her lip quivering as she held up her arm. Lucius smiled reassuringly before drawing another symbol over her wrist and murmuring, "_Matrimanfarzia_." The invisible design appeared to burn golden in the air before sinking into her skin, where it turned pure, glowing white.

She looked down at her wrist in surprise. "Well, that didn't hurt at all!"

"Why didn't hers hurt?!" Draco gasped, outraged.

"Quiet your tongue, boy, and listen to me," Lucius said, leaning down to look into his son's light silver gaze with his dark steel eyes. "You _will_ be getting married by the end of next week and whether you _want to_ or _not_ is no longer of any importance. Is that clear?"

The headmaster laughed out loud for a moment, before politely covering his outburst with faux coughing. Lucius looked over his shoulder with a frown.

"May I ask what is so funny, Albus?"

"You may, but I won't tell you," the elder wizard replied with a wide smile. "I am merely an innocent onlooker, ready to watch things play out."

"_Things play out?_ What are you talking about?" Lucius asked, his hand tightening on his wand as he turned his entire body towards the old professor.

"Oh dear," Narcissa said, wrapping her arm around her husband's arm tightly. "Lucius, darling, if you are finished being barbaric, I think that it is time for us to be going."

"Fine," he grounded out, still eyeing the headmaster with avid curiosity.

"Good," Narcissa sighed in relief, turning to Dumbledore with a gracious smile. "Thank you for allowing us this meeting with the children. I apologize for---"

"Don't worry about that," the headmaster smiled, waving his hand dismissively as he stood. "I've been witness to situations as this before and they always seem to have a way of ending the way they should."

"_The way they should_? What are you---" the elder Malfoy began, but his wife tugged him away.

"Come Lucius, we really must be off." Narcissa turned to her son, who immediately rose from his chair under her pale blue gaze. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye, Mother. Father," he added flatly, rubbing his wrist.

"Hnn," his father grunted and followed his arm as Narcissa tugged it to the exit of the room. The Parkinson's followed the soon to be bickering pair, having already bidden farewell to their daughter, and the couple nodded to Draco absently as they passed him.

Soon, the only people in the room were the young friends and their headmaster. They looked to him expectantly. He seemed to notice them only as he settled back behind his desk. "Well, what are you two still doing here? Don't you have some work to be doing?"

"Yes sir," the pair said in unison, hurrying out of the office. Neither noticed the twinkle in an old man's bright blue eyes.

* * *

"Well, this is awkward."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Go fuck yourself, Potter."

"I have Ginny for that, thanks."

"Really? The past two years sure could have fooled me."

Harry looked up from a page in his Herbology book he had been (_not_ reading for the past twenty minutes and into cool, pale grey eyes. "Shut up, you little git."

"You shouldn't talk to me like that, Potter," the Gryffindor's blonde counterpart replied from across the table. "You know it only makes me hot."

Harry took a deep breath, even though he knew it would do absolutely nothing to calm him. A staring contest commenced for what could have been seconds . . . years and everything in between before Harry finally let out his breath in a heavy huff and looked away. "I'm just trying to---"

"Dump me. I was well aware of that when the first words you said to me today were, 'We're over'. It was quite obvious what you were trying to do," Draco said flatly, his eyes roving the library's bookshelves absently. "Well, Potter, I don't give a fuck. We have at least thirty more inches of parchment to write and you're going to suffer during every stroke of your quill."

"Why are you being such a fucking prick?! Is this because of last night? Because I wouldn't fuck you again?"

"No," Draco hissed low, his eyes narrowed into molten mercury slits. "I'm a _prick_ because you acted like such a punk ass bitch last night and ran away."

"I didn't run away," the brunet growled back. "I gave you a reason."

"A punk ass bitch reason."

"Shut up!"

"SHUSH!" Both teens jumped about a foot out of their seats when the Madam Pince descended upon them with the ironically loud order. "May I remind you, Mister Potter, yet _again_, that the library is not a place where you can live your obnoxious everyday lives in high _VOLUME_! It's a place where _STUDENTS STUDY!!!_"

And with that last shout, she spun around, whipping her robes out behind her and disappeared back to whatever demonic book club she climbed out of.

Draco was obviously shaken at the old librarian's intrusion, Harry thought with a smirk as he looked to the blonde across the table. Currently the Slytherin was looking down to what Harry assumed were the hands in his lap, trying to take deep steady breaths.

"Did the big, bad book lady scare you, Drakey?" he taunted.

"Shut up," was the surprisingly hushed reply. Though Draco was now beet red around the neck and ears area, he said nothing back to the other boy and continued to look down at his lap.

"What? No good comebacks? No sneer? Nothing?" Harry continued to question, a sneer growing across his own lips. "Why so quiet, Malfoy? Please, don't tell me it's because I hurt your little feelings."

"Be quiet, Potter," Draco hissed, his silver eyes glittering strangely in the library's lamp lighting. "Don't you dare question me on something that you will never know anything about." He stood abruptly and snatched the book he had been reading up from the table. "I need to put this back on the shelf. I'll be back in a moment."

Harry watched the blonde walk away, setting his jaw rather harshly to keep from calling out to the other boy and attract Madam Pince's attention again. Instead, he stood and brusquely followed. He wasn't quite sure where Draco had gone off to, so he opted to just start at the beginning of the library's Herbology section and work his way around all seven long bookshelves. Of course he found Draco in the last one, located in what seemed to be the darkest corner of the library.

He was sitting on a small table, a large book was in his lap, and his head was dipped so low that Harry could only recognize him by his smooth sweep of distinguishable blonde hair.

"Draco?" The blonde head snapped up and Harry finally realized what the odd glitter in those pale grey eyes was. He let out a heavy sigh and began to make his way to the corner where the Slytherin sat. "Draco, don't cry."

"I'm not crying, you dipshit," the blonde snarled weakly, wiping at his eyes frantically.

"What? Are your eyes just leaking tears?" Harry asked with distaste for the both of them in his voice as he reached out and cupped Draco's damp cheeks in his hands. "Draco, please don't cry because of me."

"I'm not crying because of you. I'm crying because of me and what happened to me. I couldn't give two flying fucks about _you_."

"Shut up," Harry said softly, brushing more tears away gently. "I'm sorry."

"If you were so sorry, then you wouldn't leave me," the blonde reasoned, causing the Gryffindor to wince.

"You know that we . . . we would never work. Never." Green eyes pierced into grey to get his point across. Grey eyes closed. "We would only hurt one another. It's best to get past this before that happens."

"Or best to get past this before _you_ can get hurt."

Harry ignored the comment and moved to release the other's face, but two strong hands rose up and grasped his wrists with their pale fingers. "Let me go."

"No, promise me something before you leave."

"What?"

"Promise me," Draco said. "Promise me that when we walk out of these shelves, when we leave this library, we will be enemies again and that you'll hate me as much as I hate you."

"Draco---"

"Potter, promise me!"

"I promise," the brunet said softly, stroking his fingers over his former lover's pretty white skin. Draco closed his eyes and dropped his hands, leaning more into the gentle touch. "I promise."

Harry eyes traced the thin blue veins that webbed under the near transparent skin of the blonde's eyelids until those mystic, smoky beauties opened before him. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Can I . . . have one last kiss?"

The Gryffindor leaned forward and captured the Slytherin's full bottom lip gently between his teeth, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of tears. He heard the slight hitch of the other's breath and a moment later, Draco's arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss deepened, he wasn't sure which of them did it; perhaps it was a joint decision. The Slytherin was using the table to his advantage, using it to push up his hips and wrap his long legs around Harry's waist. He leaned back, still wrapped tightly around the other boy and pulled the brunet down onto the table on top of him.

Harry groaned into Draco's mouth in pleasure. The cunning blonde was rubbing perfectly against him, the ultimate sacrifice. He pulled away slightly, despite the others sexy little whimpers of protest and latched his mouth onto the pale column of silky skin that was Draco's neck.

"Oh God, Harry," he moaned, pushing his hips up and grinding them into the brunet's rather harshly. "Please . . . one more time. Please, once more . . . For me?"

Harry jerked away and shamed filled him. Draco's legs and arms immediately loosened at his violent reaction and he sat up to gaze hopefully at the other boy. Harry pulled out of the loose grip easily and he turned away to rub nervously at the tightness in his chest with the heel of his hand.

"Harry?" Draco called to his back.

"I can't," he told the blonde. "I can't. Goodbye."

There was a brief silence and, just as he began to walk away, he heard a soft, whispered, "Goodbye."

He hadn't realized he had gotten back to the abandoned table until he was sitting back in the hard wooden chair again. Draco was soon sitting across from him with another book, peering down at the pictures of various plants and reaching for a sheet of parchment.

"Hey Potter?"

Harry looked up into cold steel eyes. "Yeah?"

"Hand me that quill."

* * *

"Hello Harry."

"Hello Hermione," he replied politely as he climbed through the portrait hole, even though he didn't much want to be polite. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she said, setting down a rather large book that he briefly recognized and rising from her seat beside the fire. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he lied, hitching the bag on his shoulder a bit higher. "Just need to change for Quidditch practice."

"I thought you were taking Ginny out tomorrow," she said, her voice light and sweet. He narrowed his glassless eyes at her.

"I am," he confirmed. "But we have Quidditch practice with the entire team today. It'll be just me and her tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and smiled, then her amber eyes widened almost comically in feigned astonishment. "Oh! Harry, I almost forgot! Did you do your Herbology essay today? I think I saw you in the library awhile ago, you know, getting screamed at by Madam Pince."

"Yeah," he said, almost hesitantly, his brow furrowing in worry. "I did it."

"I did mine as well," she told him redundantly. He already knew she would be done with hers. "So, how was Malfoy . . . as a partner for the assignment?"

"He was alright, I guess," the green-eyed boy said to his friend, his chest becoming tight with anxiety. "I have to go upstairs and dump this stuff off."

"You guess?" the bushy-haired girl asked, effectively blocking his planned path of exit by moving to stand between him and the stairs to the boy's dormitories. "It seemed pretty obvious that you knew _exactly_ how Malfoy was."

"What are you getting at, 'Mione?" he asked nervously, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I'm simply stating something that I've seen my own eyes."

"What did you see?"

"What do you think I saw?"

"I think you should tell me what you saw."

"I think you should explain to me what I saw."

"_What did you see?_" Harry hissed so low that he was surprised that he hadn't slipped into Parseltongue.

"I saw you and Draco . . . kissing," she said simply, watching in fascination as her friend turned bright red and turned away from her. "It wasn't for the first time, was it?"

"No, it was for the last time." He shook his head as if to clear it and looked back to her. "Why were you over there, looking at us?"

"I wasn't over there to look at you, silly," she said huffily, moving to the seat she abandoned and picking up the large book she had been reading before Harry entered the room. "I needed this book."

He looked down and saw that it was the book Draco had brought back to the shelves. "Did you . . . did you hear us? Talking?"

"I could hear nothing but how much Malfoy . . . likes to kiss you. He moans rather loudly." She frowned at him and set the book back down. "This is the last time, Harry? How many times has this happened before?"

"It's been going on for two years," he revealed flatly. "During fifth year."

"Two . . . but Gin---Harry, come sit." He allowed his bag to hit the floor and moved towards the fireplace, taking a chair beside his best friend. "We need to talk."

He nodded his head, put it in his hands, and talked.

* * *

**Author's Note:** There you go; chapter five and it only took FOREVER! Please forgive me for taking so long, this school work is kicking my ass and I was a bit blocked for a moment, but now that this chapter is out of the way, I can move on smoothly, hopefully. I won't make any promises, but I'll try to update sooner than this last time. Anyway! Tell me what you think. _**-DMH**_


	6. Ginny

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of this Chapter:** Weirded-out Ginny; Touchy-feely Harry; Draco takes charge.

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Oh Gawd! I'm not that British lady!!! I don't own Harry or anyone else I so desperately want to claim!

* * *

Chapter Six

"Like I said before, it kind of started in fifth year."

"'Kind of started' Harry?"

"Well, I dunno . . . I guess it began in fifth year. We kissed during fifth year."

"Why?"

"I dunno, 'Mione! This is hard to tell you, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I just don't understand how this even started. Fifth year was with that horrible toad woman and Malfoy was on the Inquisitorial Squad, so when did this kiss occur? And why? He was a complete ass that year."

"I know, but the kiss didn't really happen until after . . . after Sirius died. It happened a while before we got on the train back home. I was in a corridor and he was there and he was pissed."

"Why was he pissed . . . um, angered?"

"The same reason he was angry when you all hexed him on the train."

"His father?"

"Yeah, he blamed me for all of that, as if his father wasn't a Death Eater or something and trying to kill me."

"So why did you kiss him?"

"I didn't kiss him."

"Well, you said that you kissed."

"He kissed me, I kissed him back!"

"Well, then you did kiss him."

"Don't start with the semantics, Hermione. I'm not in the mood."

"Forgive me."

"It's alright. _We_ kissed because . . . I dunno, we were hurting, I guess. He just leaned forward and did it. I was really surprised and he kind of took advantage of that---"

"He would."

"And I liked kissing him. It was nice. He felt good."

"Well, if that was the end of fifth year, how did it escalate?"

"He sent me a letter over the summer."

"What did it say?"

"He apologized in a way. For his father's actions. His mother told him he should. Then, I think he was just being polite and he asked me about how I was feeling about Sirius."

"And you wrote him back and told him?"

"Why do you have to say it like that?"

"You wouldn't even tell Ron and me how you felt about it for the longest time and you told Malfoy because of a letter his mother told him to send?"

"I'm sorry. I should have . . . I'm just sorry, okay."

"Alright. I'm sorry as well. Please continue."

"I told him about how I tried to hurt that Lestrange woman, his aunt. He told me that he hated her and began to tell all these stories about how his mother would try and reign in her crazy sister when they were children."

"That's . . . sweet."

"I guess so. He was the first one to bring up the kiss. He said he couldn't stop thinking of it. He just wanted to know what I thought of it, then he apologize just in case I didn't like what happened."

"What did you say?"

"I told him to take his apology back."

"Oh . . . Wow, that's terribly romantic, Harry."

"You're such a girl, 'Mione."

"I'm sorry."

"Well . . . I dunno, it kind of . . . escalated from that."

"You guys began to send freaky letters, huh?"

"HERMIONE!!!"

"Sorry, am I wrong in that assumption?"

"No, but you don't have to say it out loud."

"Sorry."

"It's alright . . . So . . . He sent pictures, too."

"He did? Do you still have them?"

"Yeah."

"Let's see!"

"Hey, no! Those are private!"

"Freakier than the letters, huh?"

"Hermione!"

"I'm sorry, you're just so funny! Well . . ."

"Well . . ."

"Well?"

"I fucked him when we got back to school, okay?!"

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry, but that's what happened! We snuck out one night and we were outside and there was a damn tree and the fucking lake and . . . I dunno, we had sex. And then we started to have a lot more sex."

"And what about Ginny?"

"I love her."

"You do?"

"I do."

"Why do you cheat on her then? Since the beginning of your relationship with her?"

"It was just sex so . . ."

"It doesn't count? It does Harry!"

"I know, 'Mione! I know! Shit! He wanted me to . . . He wanted me to touch him like I touch Ginny and I can't do that, so I . . . left him."

"He wanted to be more with you?"

"No, he just wanted the damn experience of it before he got married to Pansy!"

"Are you saying that it would be more important to you than it would be to him if you let that happen between the two of you?"

"No, I didn't say that! It wouldn't mean anything other than I'm being horrible to Ginny. That's all."

"Are you angry that he's getting married?"

"No! NO! No . . . No."

"Harry?"

"Yes."

"You're angry?"

"Yes. I don't . . . I want . . . I'm angry."

"Oh my . . . Harry do you know what this means?"

"That I think with my body too much?"

"No . . . well, yes, but you must know what this means. You lo---"

"I love Ginny, Hermione. I love _her_. And I have Quidditch practice, so I'll see you in a little while."

"But Harry!"

"See you later, 'Mione."

Hermione watched her best friend run from the room, scraping his bag up from the floor before dashing up the stairs, and wiping away the tears talking about Draco Malfoy's upcoming marriage caused. She looked at the large Herbology book sitting on the table and tightened her fists in her lap. She made a decision inwardly, nodded outwardly, and then stood, grabbing the book and taking it with her as she made her way out of the portrait hole.

She had to make a visit.

* * *

Draco stared at the last, blank, two inches of parchment intently as if willing the words to write themselves. He had told Potter he could leave after the boy said he and his Quidditch team had practice. He wanted no more to be around the brunet, so was relieved when he left. 

Then he remembered that they still had seven inches of parchment left to write. He had written as much as he could, but seriously, how much can possibly be said about bloody plants?

So he continued to stare at the blank section of parchment, wondering how large he could write without looking obvious when a large book slammed down onto the table. He jumped up, startled and stared into large golden brown eyes. "What the bloody hell do you want, Granger?"

"You just seemed as if you needed this book to finish your essay," she said simply, as if she hadn't just attempted to crack the table in half.

He looked down briefly at the book and sneered back up at the bushy-haired girl. "No thank you, Granger. I already used it."

"I know. I got it from the shelves right after you put it back on the shelf." He stared at her as if to ask how that statement was relevant. She stared at him pointedly. "_Right_ after you put it back on the shelf."

He continued to stare blankly at her for only a moment longer before he turned bright red. "Are you here to hex me or something?"

"No," she told him truthfully, even though she had the wild urge to do so. "I came here just to talk . . . _and_ to get Harry's glasses back."

"His glasses? What about his bloody glasses?"

"I know you have them," she said, then held her hand out patiently. They stared each other down for a moment before Draco huffed and reached into his pocket, then stuffed the frames into her hand. "How did they break?"

"I threw them into a wall."

"Oh . . . well . . . Thank you," she said, pocketing the thin black frames and sitting down across from the seat Draco had abandoned during the book slamming incident. "Sit so we can talk."

"Don't order me around, Mudblood," he said, plopping into his seat.

"Don't call me names just because Harry broke up with you."

"Shut up, witch," he snarled, his eyes narrowing into thin grey slits. "You know nothing about the situation."

"I've deduced a lot, actually," she told him, fiddling with her nails as she did so. She found his angry glare . . . saddening. "Harry told me how your . . . relationship with him began. He told me about how intense it was. He told me about how you wanted him to . . . touch you like he does Ginny. He also said that---"

"Potter sure does say an awful bloody lot," Draco snapped, his face reddening. "Well, did he tell you that it's over? Did he tell you that?"

"He did, but I don't think he ended it for the reasons he wants us to believe he did."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He doesn't love Ginny, Draco," she told him carefully, watching as pain filled his expressive silver eyes.

"Yes, he does." His voice was so quiet that she barely heard him. He looked away, his blonde hair falling into his face as he frowned and she wanted so badly to pull him into her arms. She quickly pushed back that feeling. This was Malfoy after all. "He loves her."

"He doesn't," she insisted. "I think I know my best friend better, Draco."

His eyes suddenly snapped back to hers, cold as ice and hard as steel. "You didn't know him well enough to know he had been fucking me for so long."

"I suppose you're right," she said, a bit of color blooming in her cheeks. "But I do know when he's outright lying to me."

"Well, apparently you don't, but let's just agree to disagree, okay?" the blonde snapped coldly.

"Draco, I'm trying to help you . . . Harry lov---"

"Shut up, Granger! You think you know everything, but you really don't know shit," the blonde hissed, standing and pulling up his bag. With a silent sweep of his wand, every item on the table leapt into the open bag and Draco hoisted it onto his shoulder, giving the amber-eyed girl one more contempt-filled look, and left the library.

* * *

"You keep feinting the wrong way." 

"Well, as long as you believe I'm gonna do something I'm actually not, isn't that feinting?"

"Yeah, that's the general idea, but Gin-" the green eyed boy chuckled."-I can tell every movement you make before you make it. That's why you're doing it wrong."

"Oh, forget it then," the redhead groaned, steering her broomstick to the ground and landing gracefully as her boyfriend did the same to the left of her. "I'm never going to be able to do it right, so I'll just perfect _obvious_ moves I already have and no one will be able to beat me."

"That's the spirit," Harry laughed, swinging his Firebolt over his shoulder and grinning. "But you really should learn to feint properly. You'll probably need it one day."

"I know, Harry," she sighed with a small smile. "Race me to the lockers?"

"Of course."

The brunet chased his fiery girlfriend across the grassy field that was soon filled with laughter and half-hearted curses. Ginny giggled as he caught her around the waist and lifted her into the air before she could get halfway to the locker rooms.

"Put me down, you prick!"

"Beg for mercy!" Harry laughed, dumping his girlfriend onto the ground and straddling her. The laughter soon died as emerald eyes stared down into bright brown ones. "Gin . . ."

She shushed him and pulled him down for a soft kiss. They teased one another's lips for a moment before a tongue peeked out. It dipped into the opposite mouth, touching and tasting, then becoming frantic as if it was searching for a specific flavor. Harry's tongue didn't seem to find it, but it still pushed deeper into the girl's mouth, sucking around her own tongue and causing low whimpers to begin in the back of her throat.

His hands traced down the sides of her body, grazing past the Quidditch uniform and pads to settle at the hem of her jersey only to push up again, this time under the soft fabric.

"Ah, Harry," she gasped as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of her stomach.

"Hush," he whispered across her parted lips, not particularly wanting to hear her voice at the moment. He dipped his tongue into her mouth again, still not finding the taste he sought, so instead, he licked a path to her neck. He could feel her chest lifting up and down with her erratic breaths under his own and he tried to savor the knowledge of how much she wanted him, but . . .

"Harry!" she cried out as his hands cupped her. "Oh God, we're in the middle of the pitch!"

"Doesn't this excite you?" he asked; his voice deep with desire as he nipped at her neck. His eyes closed with pleasure as he felt her tremble beneath him. "Do you want to . . . now?"

"Not particularly," she groaned softly, trying not to arch into his hot body. This was behavior was not what she expected of her boyfriend. It was hot, yes, but it was not the Harry she knew. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Harry said defensively, sitting up and back on his heels as Ginny sat up and brushed the grass out of her hair. "I just . . . wanted you, is all."

"Well, that was bloody obvious," she laughed humorlessly. "But where the hell did that come from? You've never done anything like that before."

"I dunno," he lied, looking away from her and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I guess I wanted to try something new . . . and spontaneous, you know."

"Well," she sighed. "Perhaps you should warn someone before you do something like that."

"Oh yes, because I always warn someone when I'm about to do something spontaneously," he snarled, rolling his eyes and pushing his hand through his hair.

The redhead stood and frowned at him. "I'm going to go to the locker room before this escalates into a fight. You should stay out here and cool off for a moment. I'll see you later."

"Gin---"

"Goodbye, Harry."

"Fuck!"

Harry stood and grabbed his broom, turning his back to his girlfriend as she stalked off.

"Hello, Potter."

The brunet stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around to find the source of the smooth voice that seemed to have come behind him. "Hello?"

"_Stupe__fy._"

* * *

Harry opened his eyes at the tickling sensation in the big toe of right foot. 

He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights above him and he frowned when he realized his glasses were missing. He tried to sit up, but found that his arms were keeping him down.

He seemed to be tied to something . . .

He tried to move his feet as well; no such luck, they were tied down, too.

And he briefly acknowledged that he was naked.

This had to be a dream.

Then, he felt the tickling in his big toe once more. He lifted his head just enough to see down the length of his body and saw a blurry figure in black a little ways away from him.

"Hello, Potter."

"You," he snarled, bucking his hips in an attempt to free himself and lunge at his captor.

"Yes, me," Draco said softly, walking towards Harry's angry face, becoming clearer and clearer by the second. He trailed his fingers up the brunet's naked skin as he did so, causing small tremors the Gryffindor hated.

"Untie me, you fucking lunatic."

"Yeah, those sweet words are sure to make me want to free you," Draco snorted, lifting his fingers from the tempting skin and stepping out of Harry's limited line of sight.

"Where the fuck are you going?!" the green-eyed man screamed after him. "What are you doing?! Where the fuck are we?!"

"I'm over here," the blonde replied, his blurry form stepping back into Harry's range of vision. "I'm giving you these." Glasses were set at the tip of his nose and everything got less blurry. "And we are in the Room of Requirement. You would not believe how much of a hassle it was to drag you all the way up to the seventh floor. You are a rather heavy dead weight."

"How very sorry I am to inconvenience your kidnapping of me," Harry snarled sarcastically. "I'll try to be lighter next time."

"Thank you for being so considerate," Draco replied, not missing a beat. He pulled absently at the tie of his robes and they fell unceremoniously to the floor. Harry watched as he carefully unbuttoned his cuffs and took off his tie, letting the silver and green fabric flutter to the floor. "I'm happy that you got your glasses back."

"How did you know they were missing?"

"I had them."

"You had them!" Harry bellowed.

"Oh hush," Draco said, rolling his eyes and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I gave them to Granger. She did tell you where she got them, didn't she?"

"She said she found them in the library."

"Well, didn't you think that was strange?"

"No, not really."

"Do you even remember where you lost the damn things?" Draco asked, unbuckling his belt and pulling it from the loops of his dark trousers. Harry ignored the ominous gesture and continued to stare at the other man. "Where did you think you lost them on Thursday?"

"I dunno," he snapped back. "I was everywhere that night. I was a bit restless."

"Yes, leaving your weeping lover when you have a straining hard-on from sheer want of said lover can do that to you," Draco snapped back, a sneer crossing his elegant features.

"Oh, shut up. Where were they?"

"I had them," he repeated carelessly. "Your friend somehow knew I had them and she also knew a few other things that I'd rather not touch on."

"She told you what we talked about?"

"I told you I don't want to touch on the subject," Draco said, snapping the belt in his hand before dropping it onto the floor with his other discarded items. "How stupid you must be to have forgotten where they were."

"I wasn't thinking straight that night. I---Hey! I'm not stupid!" he snapped as if he had just realized what was said. Then, another epiphany hit him. "Hey! Untie me, you fucking lunatic!"

"No," Draco replied, looking at his nails with avid interest. He let out a huge huff of air and raised his silver gaze to the other man. "I don't want to have to do this, Potter, but you leave me no choice."

"What the hell are you going to do, you prick?"

"I know what scares you the most, Potter."

"And what is that, Malfoy?" Harry growled.

"I'm going to punish you for everything you've ever done to me," the blonde said simply, pulling his white shirt over his head. "It's your turn now."

"What? Are you gonna spank me?" Harry taunted as Draco crept closer to the bed.

"Oh no, Harry. I'm going to do the thing that scares you the most," Draco said, straddling the Chosen One. "I'm going to make love to you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Dum, Dum, Dummmm! So, I guess we'll see how that goes, huh? This chapter wasn't that long and neither will the next one be, but next one's a pretty good chapter. Tell me what you think of my story so far, please. _**-DMH**_


	7. Emerald

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By** **darkmosmordreheart**

**General** **Summary**: D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary** **of** **This** **Chapter**: Niiiiiiiiiiiiice. Apologetic-Draco; Serious-Ginny; and Harry finally makes up his goddamn mind.

**Warning**: slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer**: I have no right to claim Harry Potter, but I secretly do it anyway. (Just kidding! Don't sue me!)

**Author's** **Note**: I feel like everyone's going to simultaneously say "YAY!!!" at a certain part of this chapter. I know I did. _**-DMH

* * *

**_

Chapter Seven

Harry struggled against his bonds to no avail. Malfoy could not do this to him. He could not force him into doing something he didn't want to do. The little worm would not _rape_ him, but . . .

He had to admit to himself that he was struggling only halfheartedly, seeing as the thing he feared most was something he had wanted for the past two years. He growled out his frustrations at not getting loose even as soft kisses grazed his neck and chin. His body bucked forward, but strong thighs tightened around his hips.

"Calm down, Harry," Draco purred against his neck. "Don't worry, there will be enough time for me to ride you like that later, but right now . . . now we go nice and slow."

As if proving his point, he trailed pale hands down golden skin, over bronzed nipples, and soft black hairs ever so slowly. "I _will_ make love to you Harry."

Harry shook his head silently, though the arching of his body belied any objection. Soft blond hair grazed his cheek and he shamed himself by turning his head to catch the soft pink lips with his. The kiss was soft; softer than he had ever allowed any kiss with Draco to be and when it was over, in panic, he said words he knew would ruin any and all moments between them. "I love Ginny."

Silver eyes widened briefly, the pain in them so obvious it made the Gryffindor's heart clench. But soon the Malfoy mask was up and those eyes twinkled and the pink lips parted to release the tip of a pink tongue. Draco licked a patient path around his reluctant lover's mouth and then said, "I know who you love, Harry, but she left you alone on the Quidditch pitch quite a long time ago and, now, you are currently under me."

"Draco, don't . . . don't do this . . . we-I can't do this! . . . I . . . I don't want you that way!"

The blonde closed his eyes and chuckled deep in his throat before moving his trouser clad hips back and forth. "Apparently, you do. You're extremely hard, Harry. Did you know that?"

"Draco!" the brunet gasped out, his eyes filling with tears, his chest bursting with emotion that he absolutely refused to acknowledge.

Draco opened his eyes, revealing a cold anger that he wanted to keep completely out of this moment, but couldn't control. He grasped Harry's chin tight and lowered his face until the tip of his nose was against the other's. "We _will_ make love, Harry. I _will_ touch you like she touches you and we _will_ look into each other's eyes the entire time."

"Why?"

"Because I'm getting married and you love her and this will probably be our last chance together. I have experienced almost everything with you and I want to experience this. I don't give a shit about your hang-ups, Potter. I don't care who you love. I don't care what you want. You _will_ make love to me, Potter, and you _will_ enjoy it, dammit!"

"You sure know how to set the mood, Mal-" Before Harry could even finish his words, those soft lips claimed him again. They lifted him up, stole more of his soul than any hooded creature possibly could, and left him soundlessly begging for more. Those pale fingers traced up and down his sides, pulling moans from his body, pushing pleasure into him. Emerald eyes rolled back as the lips trailed to his neck, sucking and licking, not caring what marks were left behind for others to see later. All he could do was look down at the blond head and moan; how helpless he had become. Reduced to a pile of gelatin by a few kisses and some rope. He wanted to be disgusted, but all he felt was anxiousness for where those lips would go next. And soon he knew because they were parting to capture a nipple between them. His back arched as the tongue flicked out and a name fell from his own mouth.

Amazing, Draco thought. Amazing that he could give so much and receive so much more, in moans and gasps . . . heated groans of his name. This was making love. This was making love to Harry . . . Finally.

The blonde lifted himself up and away from the bound man, but continued to gaze into those hot emerald eyes even as he finished undressing. He reached over to the nightstand and curled his fingers around his wand, biting his lip with sudden nervousness. He was shy, he had to admit. He had never prepared himself; Harry had always taken care of that for him. He pondered whether or not he should untie the young man on the bed so _he_ could stretch his entrance, but he really didn't feel like hunting Harry down afterwards. The Chosen One could run pretty fast.

So, instead, he opted to just crawl across the bed and he lay down in the open V of Harry's legs and, as wide green eyes watched him, he spread his thighs and arched back, revealing his tiny pink hole. Every part of Harry shook when he did this, he noticed, and a certain part of the Gryffindor twitched even more when he muttered a spell that spread lubricant over his fingers.

"Dammit, Draco!" the dark-haired boy grounded out through his teeth.

"You don't have to watch," the other merely suggested before he moved his fingers to his entrance. The cool liquid caused him to gasp and his eyed closed for a moment, only to open again to look into green ones that had dilated so much, they appeared to be nothing more than a thin emerald ring eclipsed by black. "Do you want me to stop, Harry?"

"Yes," the noble Gryffindor lied.

Draco smiled as he bit his lip and pushed one finger through the first tight ring of muscle. He hissed slightly before adding another finger, then a third and soon his body was moving back and forth, but slowly so Harry could enjoy the view. He pushed his fingers even further, brushing a spot that he thought only Harry had the ability to brush and he cried out in ecstasy. "Oh Harry!"

"Draco . . . shit."

A pale foot had lifted from the bed and was now stroking up and down Harry's neglected, but not forgotten, shaft. The blonde curled his toes so that his perfect toenails could graze his lover's sensitive skin. It wasn't until Harry cried out his name three consecutive times that he stopped the mutual torture and climbed up the golden muscled body. "Are you ready, Harry?"

"Stop this," the Chosen One fruitlessly begged a final time, closing his eyes as Draco began to position himself.

"Harry, open your eyes," the blonde murmured softly. "Open your eyes as you make love to me Harry. Look into my eyes."

Those eyes opened and Draco sank down, further and further onto Harry until the man was fully sheathed within him and the entire time, emerald was trained on pure silver. As Draco's body adjusted to the large invasion, he lost control of his breathing and cried out, growling and gasping in pleasure like an animal in heat. The brunet looked up at the sight of Draco with his head thrown back from the pure ecstasy of just having Harry inside of him and bit his lip to prevent crying out himself when Draco's pale fingers dug into the flesh of his naked chest.

"Release my arms," Harry ordered, moving his hips experimentally. Draco nodded and reached back for his wand, his breath hitching at the pleasure his movement caused. As soon as Harry was free, he surprised Draco by not throwing him off, not snatching the wand out of his hand, not even looking down at his red wrists. He surprised Draco the most by pulling the pale blonde closer and looking even deeper into his eyes the entire time.

"Oh God," the Slytherin moaned as strong hands grasped his waist and began to lift him up and down. His head lulled back and his eyes closed as Harry's hot crown grazed his spot and the brunet began to lick at his neck, alternating back and forth between moaning his name and stroking soft skin with his tongue.

"Open your eyes, Draco. Please, look at me."

The blonde complied and began to move his hips back and forth as the two gazes locked once more. He cried out at every forward thrust of his hips; his hot and wet tip colliding with Harry's hard, golden stomach. He clutched wildly at the strong shoulders before him, cried out more as the brunet continued to hit the cluster of nerves inside of him. He raked his short nails across a strong, sweaty back. He arched his own, moaning his lover's name as the golden man went even deeper inside. Tears streamed from his eyes at the pleasure. His mouth emitted soundless screams. His body tightened around his lover's. His chest filled. His head clouded. And all he could think was Harry. Harry was doing this to him. Making him this way. Harry and only Harry.

"Like that, baby. Just like that. Ride me."

"O-O-Ohhhh! Harry! Oh, y-y-yessssssss!"

"Come on, just a bit more. Take it, Draco. Take it all. Come for me."

"Yes! Please! Ohhhhh, God! P-P-Please, God, yessssssss!"

Soon, he was thrashing in his lover's arms, coming wildly, his motions bringing the other to orgasm as well. They seemed to compete for a while as to who could shout out the other's name the loudest and the longest, then, _finally_, all was quiet and still and warm and pleasant . . . and that was when the tears came. Tears of regret and guilt and sorrow came flooding from silver eyes against Harry's neck and he rubbed his hand up and down a pale trembling back, tears filling his own eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have . . ." Draco tried to pull away, but Harry held him fast, rubbing his nose into sweat dampened white-blond hair and rocking back and forth. Draco could hardly register the kisses feathering his wet face as apologies continued to spill from his mouth. "I'm sorry I did that to you . . . I should have never done that . . . You didn't want me that way and I-I-I forced you . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . I should have never---I had no right! . . . I should have never . . ."

"DRACO!"

The shaking blonde jumped up at the shout of his name. Harry merely smiled at him and lifted a hand to wipe at the tears. "I think I've been saying your name for the last five minutes."

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured, looking away from the disconcerting green eyes. He twitched when Harry cupped his cheek and turned his head back.

"Draco . . . again."

And Harry leaned back, taking his lover down with him.

* * *

For the second time in his life, Draco Malfoy was surprised that he was waking up in his lover's arms.

Harry was breathing deeply, his strong chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. He faced the blonde, his beautiful face pressed against a pillow, his glasses skewed and biting into his cheek. Draco winced at the sight and lifted his hand up slowly and carefully to pull the twisted frames away from the man's face. Harry moved slightly at the contact, his face scrunching briefly in pain before a small smile graced his lips.

"Thank you, baby."

Draco had to bite his lip from crying out in joy and leaping at the still sleeping Gryffindor. After he was sure he wasn't going to wake Harry abruptly with his words---or back-flips---he slowly began to pull himself out of the bed. He had barely noticed the other teen's hand on the small of his back, but his movement caused the calloused fingertips to slide against his sensitive skin and he shivered and moaned loudly at the contact. His eyes widened and he leapt up suddenly from the bed, his hands clamped down tight over his mouth as he stared down at the snoozing lion.

And still Harry slept on.

He wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief, but he had seen enough ironic situations to know that the smallest sound he could make would end up waking the other man. He backed slowly away from the bed, admiring Harry's perfect, sculpted, golden form along the way. He slowly gathered his things, pulled on his clothing, wincing pleasurably on the soreness he felt in his lower regions. Once he had on all of his clothes and his wand was pocketed, he moved over to the bed again to hover over the other boy.

He brushed soft, wild hair away from the smooth forehead and traced the scar carefully with the tip of his finger. Harry moved slightly, but still he slept. He leaned forward and skimmed his lips across the smooth, yet roped line of scarred skin. Harry sighed and Draco moved his lips down over the brunet's nose and lower until he could suck the sweet upper lip into his mouth. Harry whimpered in his sleep and kissed him back. Draco moaned as large golden hands lifted and cupped his face.

"Draco . . . baby," the Gryffindor groaned drowsily inbetween kisses. "Baby."

The blonde slowly kissed back, his hands in thick dark hair until he finally realized what he was doing and pulled back.

"Baby?" Harry asked, sitting up and reaching over to the nightstand to grab his glasses and pull them on.

He looked around the ivory room, but Draco was already gone.

* * *

"Hey, have you guys seen Ginny?"

Hermione and Ron looked up from their books to stare at their best friend in his distressed state. He was wearing his wrinkled Quidditch robes, his glasses were skewed at an odd angle as if they were bent the incorrect way and his hair was even more wild than usual.

"Hey mate, where were you last night?" Ron asked, standing and walking over to his friend. The redhead was worried that something was wrong due to the state of Harry's attire and the fact that the boy looked to begin hyperventilating any second now. "What's up? Where were you?"

"In the Room of Requirement." Hermione gasped briefly, but neither boy paid her any mind. "I just really need to find Ginny right now. Right now."

"Why? What happened? You're scaring me."

"Do you know where she is or not, Ron?" Harry tried to snap, but he couldn't seem to put any venom in his voice. "I need to find her."

The redhead frowned deeply, but hitched a thumb towards the portrait hole. "She went to the Ravenclaw common room to visit Luna."

"The Ravenclaw . . . where the hell is that?"

"Go to the west side of the school---" Hermione began.

"Which floor?" a frantic Harry huffed out.

"Doesn't matter. There's a spiral staircase when you reach the absolute west end of the school," Hermione continued, her eyes large amber saucers as she looked at the state of Harry. "Climb up to the top floor until you reach a wooden door with a bronze handle---"

"Okay, thanks!" the emerald-eyed boy shouted over his shoulder as he spun around and bolted out the portrait hole just as it opened, leaving a sprawled Neville Longbottom on the floor in his wake.

* * *

Harry felt as if he had ran a marathon by the time he had made it up three flights of the dizzying staircase. Finally, he had reached a door at the top of the seemingly never-ending staircase and, before his panting body could collapse onto the floor, he raised a hand to the bronze, eagle-shaped knocker. He rapt it quite rapidly, not sure if anyone was to let him in, but he jumped about a foot into the air when a soft, calculated voice greeted him. "The maker does not want it. The buyer does not use it. The user uses it without knowing. What is it?"

"Whaizwha?!" Harry hissed out through his panting. The soft voice slowly repeated the phrase and question and the Gryffindor rolled his eyes. "Of course bloody Ravenclaw would have a bloody riddle instead of a password."

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the other house, but he refrained since he hadn't even stopped to think of any passwords, even if Ravenclaw _did_ have one. Without him asking, the voice repeated the riddle on more time and a soft voice behind him answered, "A coffin."

The door swung open.

He turned at the sound of the familiar voice and was immediately frozen in the gaze of the girl he had come to see. Standing beside Luna Lovegood with a bag of treats in her hand was Ginny; confusion written in her bright brown eyes as she looked at her sweaty boyfriend's disheveled state. "Harry? What's the matter?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Hello, Harry," came Luna's soft airy voice from beside him; he hadn't even noticed that she moved.

"Hello, Luna."

She smiled and pushed back her dirty blond hair over her shoulders, revealing her favorite pair of earrings. She traced a finger over one large beet and turned to her friend. "Well, I'll wait for you in the common room."

The redhead nodded and turned back to the green-eyed as the blonde disappeared behind her House's large wooden barrier. Her pretty, freckled face scrunched up in worry and she lifted a hand to her hair, sweeping the long, silky auburn curtain over her shoulder as she stared up at him. "Harry? What's the matter?"

Harry sighed and said the words he should have said a year before.

"I'm breaking up with you."

* * *

"That looks painful, mate."

"It is."

"Is it still swelling?"

"It is."

"It's gonna bruise, isn't it?"

"It _is_!" Harry growled through his teeth as he and his two friends sat at the huge wooden table in Hagrid's cabin.

"'Ere, 'Arry, this should 'elp," the half-giant said, slapping down a rather large and rather green piece of steak across the table. Instead of lifting the meat to his face and despite Hermione's protests, the brunet set his head down on the raw meat and sighed in pleasure as he felt immediate relief.

"Harry, that's disgusting."

"It feels bloody fantastic," he replied, digging his bruised cheek further into the raw meat.

"What I don't get is why you broke up with her, Harry . . . I mean, I thought things were going really well between the two of you," Ron said, his brow furrowing in confusion. Hermione shifted uncomfortably next to him and shot Harry a look as if to say, "Well?"

Harry groaned, closed his eyes and dug his face even further into green meat. "I just feel as if . . . well, I haven't been the best boyfriend for her, you know?"

"We know, Harry," Hermione said quietly. Harry shot her a look and she jerked back. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was rhetorical."

"Why would you feel that way, mate?" Ron asked, confusion clear in his sky blue gaze and in that moment, Harry felt absolutely horrible for everything he had ever done that could have hurt Ginny and, in turn, what he did that could have hurt his relationship with his best friend. Tears welled in his eyes and he pulled his face away from Hagrid's remedy and placed it in his hands.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry." He immediately felt two pairs of arms around his shoulders and a large hand settle on the top of his head. He even felt Fang's furry head nudge his knees. He sat up and smiled. Everything was going to be all right.

* * *

Everything was not going to be all right, Draco Malfoy decided over the next couple of days since that fateful night.

Everywhere he turned, bloody Potter was there, trying to speak to him, smiling, even waving at him in the mornings as they passed ways towards their different classes. Bloody Gryffindor, didn't he know that Draco had no right to talk to him after what had transpired between the two of them.

"I tied him to a bloody bed, for God's sake!"

"What?"

Draco looked up into his fiancé's eyes and mentally cursed. He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. He smiled sheepishly and shook his head. Pansy gave him a quizzical smile back and went back to absently turning the ring on her finger that bore the Malfoy family crest. He stared at her milky white, long, slender fingers and briefly acknowledged what nice hands they were.

Pity those weren't the one's he ached to have against his skin for the rest of his lifetime.

"Draco!" Mercury eyes immediately jumped up to a cold steel gaze as Lucius entered the room. "Pansy, my dear, you look lovely."

"Thank you," Pansy replied to her future father-in-law. Draco admired the way she refused to wince. After all, she was wearing the color pink, a dress her mother picked out and a color the girl claimed to look horrid in. "Are the ceremonies beginning now?"

"Why yes, dear," Lucius replied, flashing a smile before turning to Draco. Draco winced as he noticed the smile melt into a sneer. "Are you ready, son?"

"Y-Y-Ye---" He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat carefully. "Yes, Father."

"Good. Your mother is waiting with the Binder. We should hurry up with this so that you may get to your classes on time today."

And with those last words, the handsome blonde strode from the room, the steel toes of his boots clicking ominously against the stone floors as he went.

Draco looked to Pansy, who seemed to be getting paler by the second, and held his arm out with a smile. "Only my father could schedule wedding that wouldn't disrupt our school day."

The brunette's laugh seemed more like a whimper as she took her best friend's arm and walked slowly out of the room with him. The wedding was to be held in a small room just off the side of the Great Hall because it overlooked the same beautiful sea view the hall did. Since the wedding was held at the same time the students were sitting down for their breakfast, the room was spelled soundproof. The only sound heard was the sound melody of a harp quietly playing itself in the corner of the room as the pair walked in.

Pansy's family beamed as they entered, quietly commenting on how beautiful a couple they made and Draco's parents merely watched on, his father seemingly detached from the situation entirely as his mother looked fit to burst into tears at any moment. Draco finally managed to guide his bride down the short isle successfully, pleased that he had managed not to collapse from sheer nervousness.

The betrothed pair settled before the Binder and held their hands out; Draco's right and Pansy's left. The Binder said not one word, his weathered brown face blank as he took their hands in each of his leathery ones. He turned Draco's hand so that the palm was facing up and he moved Pansy's so that it was hovering a few inches above her fiancé's.

"_Matri_," the old man finally spoke, his voice croaking out like that of a toad out of practice, and both Pansy and Draco jolted when the Celtic pattern Lucius hand spelled onto their individual wrists a week before began to glow; Draco's gold and Pansy's purple. The Binder then moved one of his hands to cup Draco's and the other to settle onto Pansy's and he pushed them together.

The small room erupted with applause from the Parkinson's, but the Malfoy's remained dead silent.

"What is the matter, Binder?" Lucius asked after he noticed the man's already wrinkled face wrinkle further. He stepped up to the podium his son and daughter-in-law stood and frowned at the sight he saw. A small green light seemed to be pushing the hands apart, not allowing them to touch in the least.

"The spell is refusing the union. It seems that unfaithfulness is the culprit and there seems to be evidence of the unfaithfulness. An impure heir," the old Binder revealed gruffly, his face twisting into an expression of disgust. The room suddenly erupted with the angered shouts of about twenty or so Parkinson's, each furious that the old man would accuse their sweet, beloved Pansy of such an act, but Lucius' cool gazed remained locked onto his son's face.

He noticed how Draco's face had not changed at the Binder's accusations, but his son always did have dramatic eyes. The pale, mercury pools darkened briefly before they glazed over with what appeared to be . . . unshed tears?

"Draco?"

The young Malfoy heir turned his gaze slowly to his sire's and Lucius scowled as he looked away from his son and looked to the emerald light keeping the young couple apart.

"Come with me, boy."

* * *

Harry had taken to scowling again.

Only, he was not the only one this time. Ron, the dutiful best friend, scowled with him once again without knowing why. Hermione scowled because she knew why. And Ginny seemed to have scowled before she saw the large wound her punch had left on Harry's cheek and that seemed to just morph into a smug smirk.

Harry tried his best to just sit there, avoid a redhead's angry gaze, and eat his cornflakes, but his body was tense and he shook his left leg anxiously and the boy he had been trying to talk to for the last week was avoiding and, oh yeah, getting married! In just the next room!

The emerald-eyed teen finally just let his spoon clatter onto the wooden table and fisted his hands in his thick, dark hair. He felt Hermione's hands lightly rub up and down his back and smiled when he felt Ron's hand pat his shoulder, even though his friend still thought his grief was mainly because of his sister, but it still felt nice to be comforted. He looked up and smiled at both of his friends. They smiled back and the solemn mood seemed to be lifted in that small moment of friendship.

All he had to do now was ignore the angered little redhead glaring at him over Dean Thomas' shoulder.

Harry was reaching for a glass of orange juice when the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing a very, _very_ angry Lucius Malfoy. He was holding a struggling Draco by the scruff of his neck, but paid his son no mind as his cold, stormy grey eyes scanned the hall for something specific. Finally, inevitably, those eyes locked with emerald and narrowed.

The hall was quiet as the former Death Eater stalked towards the Gryffindor table, dragging his resisting son along the way---which in no way effected his stride. Finally, the man stopped right in front of where Harry sat and Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom, who were each sitting across from the brunet, scooted out the way to accommodate him.

Harry stared back and forth between father and son, confusion clear on his face, orange juice still unable to pass that lump in his throat and he paled under the scrutinizing gaze of the elder Malfoy.

"Please tell us what the meaning of all this is, Lucius?" the headmaster's calm voice inquired from the Head Table as if he were just mildly curious, though the lack of twinkle in his blue eyes showed otherwise. Lucius did not even look towards the elder wizard, merely continued to examine Harry with his cold eyes a moment longer before he pushed Draco forward.

"Tell them, Draco."

Draco turned his gaze to the floor and silently shook his head. Lucius gripped the boy tightly by both shoulders and shook him violently.

"Tell them, boy."

Pale silver eyes looked up to a shocked emerald gaze. Draco face was pale and pleading, just like the night Harry had left him and the lump in the brunet's throat grew larger. He felt Hermione's hand grip his tightly under the table.

"Harry," Draco said softly as a single tear fell from one of his watery eyes. "Harry, I'm pregnant."

Harry's mouth dropped open and the orange juice that couldn't quite make it past the giant lump in his throat dribbled down his chest.

"Holy fucking Hell . . ."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry to those I told I was going to post earlier. And special thanks to WheezyD a.k.a. **WiseDraco**, whom without her gorgeous advice (yes, I used the word "gorgeous" to describe advice), this chapter wouldn't exist! Thank you! I love you! _**-DMH**_


	8. Pregnant

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General** **Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** WTF? Pregnant-Draco; Furious-Ron; Daddy-Harry; Sympathetic-Hermione; Smug-Lucius

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** I'm pretty sure J.K. Rowling never wrote anything about Draco being pregnant, so I'm pretty sure this is not written by her even though she owns the characters.

**Author's Note:** Some people have expressed surprise at the sudden way I dropped "M-Preg" on my audience. Well, the way I see it, if I had warned someone about it, it would have taken the ever present element of surprise out of my story. I like to surprise people . . . and "M-Preg" as some like to call it, does that. Sorry if you're not into that sort of thing, but that's just the way my story is headed and, dear reader, if we must go our separate ways because of a topic that could only exist in a fiction story full of fiction characters that can do fiction things (such as magic), then I must simply say, "Good-bye." And to those who can continue on with me through the journey that is No One's Secret To Keep, enjoy my Pregnant Draco story! _**-DMH**_

* * *

Chapter Eight

"Holy fucking Hell," Ron said again, more to himself than to anyone else this time as he turned to look at the shocked face of his best friend. Harry's expression would have been comical had the situation not been so horrific. His eyes were wide and even further enlarged by the lenses of his glasses. His mouth was wide as well, a steady drip of orange juice falling from his bottom lip and dropping to his chest to add to the dark stain on the dark fabric. He looked pale, paler than the redhead had ever seen him, but his skin still held a slight greenish tinge as if sickness was not too far away.

"Pregnant?" the teen squeaked as soon as he remembered he had the ability to speak. "You're--"

His blonde nemesis nodded and turned his face as if to shield it from the eyes of those whispering around him throughout the hall. Pansy, who Harry hadn't even realized was in the hall until she came up right beside the boy he was gaping at, attempted to take her friend's hand, but a bright green light erupted between their palms and gently kept them away from one another.

"Do you see that, Potter?" came the slick voice of the elder Malfoy. Harry's emerald gaze roved from the light to meet the eyes of a man he had loathed upon first meeting. He automatically stood and crossed his arms.

"What is all this about, _Lucius_?" Harry hissed, spitting out the name like venom. "Why are you making Draco say he's . . . pregnant?"

"Because that is the state he seems to be in, Potter," the patriarch stated simply, even slowing down his words for the other's inferior intellect. "Do you see the light there? That just so happens to be your little bastard."

Harry's fist clenched tight as the sound of Draco's whimper resounded in the air and he turned to watch the blonde try to hide the fact that tears were streaming from his eyes. He bit his tongue and moved slowly around the long table, deliberately ignoring the looks he knew he was getting. Lucius met him at the end of the table, nearest to the doors of the front hall, and Harry was pleased that he was now tall enough to stand eye to eye with the man. "Perhaps, we should discuss this somewhere else."

"Perhaps," Lucius reiterated as Draco came up behind him. "But I'd rather not. Give me your wrist, Draco."

"What?" the blonde gasped, holding his wrist close to his chest. "W-what are you g-going to do, F-father?" Lucius held up his wand and arched an eyebrow. "F-f-father . . . N-n-no!"

The elder merely lifted his other brow and soon, the son was outright bawling as he reluctantly presented his wrist to his father. "Pansy, dear, if you do not mind?"

Pansy whimpered and looked around unsure of what to do just as several teachers and the headmaster marched down to the center of the hall.

"I'm afraid, Lucius, what you are suggesting is absolutely barbaric," the silver haired man told the other, his wand out as well. Lucius turned to look languidly over his shoulder at the older man and a slow, gentle smile spread across his handsome face.

"Barbaric; yes, but illegal, Albus? No," he sneered as his gaze traveled to the wand pointed directly at him. "But I fear that attacking me--in front of your students--is not only illegal, but also a very bad example." The headmaster reluctantly lowered his wand and a smug smile crossed the Malfoy patriarch's expression as he turned back to his son and his peers. "Now, now, Draco, no more tears. Daddy's going to fix it. Pansy, dear, your wrist?"

"Hold out your arm, Pansy," came a direct voice from behind Harry. The brunet turned and immediately deduced that the couple, a man with a piggish nose and a woman with dark hair and incredibly pale skin, had to be the Slytherin girl's parents.

"Yes, Father," she replied, her arm presenting itself to Lucius as her gaze shifted to the floor. The former Death Eater smiled and lifted his wand and, strangely, it was directed at Harry.

"Hey!" the young Gryffindor burst out at the older man. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, Potter, you don't expect me to accept an illegitimate heir, do you?" Lucius explained a moment before he did something he had wished to do for years; he cursed Harry Potter. "_Matrimonforzio_."

A burst of blinding light, purple and gold and white all at once, lit the room as if the enchanted ceiling had wanted to let its presence be known with a strike of lightning. Pansy, or it might have been Draco--

it was hard to tell with the lack of sight--released an ear-shattering shriek of pain. The light finally dispersed and revealed three bodies crouched on the floor; Harry was on his knees, his hand wrapped around his right wrist which was glowing oddly black. Pansy was clutching her left wrist which was slightly red and Draco was whimpering as he stared at both his wrists set in his lap, the right which bleed profusely and the right, which glowed a blinding white.

"Well, isn't it our lucky day, Draco?" Lucius asked joyously as he crouched down beside his sobbing son. "We lose an heiress, but we happen to gain an heir, whom of which happens to be Harry Potter. How do you think we should welcome Mr. Potter to the family, Draco?"

Silver eyes merely lifted to stare pleadingly into cold steel.

And Lucius only smiled.

* * *

"You need more vitamin induced potions, Mr. Malfoy. Pregnancy in wizards is hard enough _with_ vitamins and going without is a bit risky, so I suggest more iron and bit of potassium. Don't you eat bananas, boy?"

"I'm allergic," the blonde replied softly as he fiddled with the bandages around his wrists. Madam Pomfrey merely nodded and scuttled from the room, mumbling about the large-number-of-people-that-exceeded-the-proper-amount-of-visitors-one-patient-should-have. Six pairs of eyes followed her from the room, but one remained ensnared by the bandages.

"Draco?" The blonde looked up into a soft green gaze and blushed. Harry reached out and lightly grasped the pale fingers teasing with his arm's wrappings. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded and pulled his hand away, returning it to its original task of distracting him from the world around him. He heard Harry's deep sigh and closed his eyes to stop the new tidal wave of tears from erupting. He felt Harry rise from his vigilant position next to the man he impregnated and opened his eyes to watch the brunet's path across the room to his friends. He turned his head and watched his Head of House in intense conversation with Professor McGonagall. He looked down, not to the wounded wrists in his lap, but what sat right beside it; his stomach. He brought a shaking hand to it, pressed his palm flat against the surface of it and gasped slightly at the warmth he felt there.

"You feel it, don't you, dearie?" He jumped at the sudden invasion of his senses before him and gaped at the old nurse he didn't realize had returned to the room, let alone appeared right before him. He nodded hastily and moved his hand, a slight blush gracing his smooth cheeks. "Mr. Potter? Do you mind returning? I have a few questions to ask the both of you."

Harry moved back and stood beside Draco as Madam Pomfrey guided the blonde to lay back and place his hands on his stomach. She pulled out her wand and conjured a pad and quill. "Alright, Mr. Potter, how long have you been sexually active?"

"What?!" Harry snapped at the unexpected question, his face burning bright red as he felt the eyes of his two best friends' burn into his back.

"How long have you been sexually active?" she repeated slowly for his benefit.

"Since fourth year," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Fourth year," he repeated loud and clearly. He could just envision Hermione leaning over to whisper into Ron's ear even without turning around.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sixth year," Draco answered, his eyes closed, his cheeks almost as red as Harry's. Madam Pomfrey nodded and scribbled a bit on her pad before turning to the other once more.

"And Mr. Potter how many other sexual partners have you had besides Mr. Malfoy, here?"

Harry, if possible, turned an even deeper red and looked quickly around the room. "Is it necessary to answer this right now? With everyone standing here?"

"Why, yes it is," the old witch replied, a boggled look on her face as to why he wouldn't answer the simple question. "Sexual partners, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh God," he sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Besides Draco?" The witch nodded and poised her quill against the pad of parchment. "Three."

"Oral sex counts as well, Mr. Potter."

"Fine then; five," Harry snapped as he directed his gaze to the ceiling.

"What?" Hermione gasped from behind. "Oh my God, Harry! Ron, did you know about this?!"

"I didn't even know he knew what sex was, Hermione! We never talked about it!"

"Jesus Christ," Harry hissed, crossing his arms and looking down at the blonde that refused to look at him. He had the strangest urge to apologize, but . . . the others were long before he had begun anything with Draco . . . except Ginny.

"Sexual partners besides Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"None," the blonde said quietly as he tightened his jaw. Harry felt his heart clench.

"Well then, young men, let's see how far along the child is. Mr. Potter, please place your hand on your fiancé's stomach." Harry winced at the "fiancé" word, but reached out anyway to do as the mediwitch ordered. Draco flinched away from him and he froze. He faintly acknowledged that Madam Pomfrey's hand pressed his down on the other man's flat abdomen, but all he could feel was the wild thumping of his heart. He knew he was staring down pleadingly at Draco, but luckily the blonde's eyes were focused elsewhere. "Do you feel that, Mr. Potter?"

"It's warm," Harry said gruffly as the witch began to guide his hand into massaging Draco's stomach through his shirt. He nearly smiled when he saw the Slytherin bite his lip, showing he was not the only to be affected by the action.

"Good that you can feel the warmth. Just goes to show that it already realizes who its parents are. Now, Mr. Malfoy, place your hand atop his--Yes, just like that and Mr. Potter, your other hand on top . . . Exactly. Excellent," Madam Pomfrey smiled as she held up her wand. "_Ultran_."

A large light illuminated the room for a moment before the image of . . . something appeared in the middle of the room.

"That's your baby!" Madam Pomfrey practically giggled. Harry looked at her oddly before looking towards his . . . "baby".

"Where?"

"See that dot there?"

"It's full of dots."

"That one?"

"That's a dot."

"That's your baby!"

"Oh my God." Harry turned to Draco and frowned when he saw the blonde screwing his eyes shut tight with his face turned toward the wall. "Don't you want to see it, Draco?"

"I'd rather not," came the soft reply from pale pink lips. Harry nodded and stroked his thumb across Draco's trembling fingers. Draco bit his lip.

"Well, the baby looks to be . . . Oh my, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since it has been conceived," Madam Pomfrey said, further helping the already strained situation.

Draco's eyes opened wide as he bolted up and looked into Harry's concerned face, losing the contact of their hands and causing the image of their child to shimmer into nothing. "Oh God, Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh my God!"

"Draco, it's alright. I said it was alright," Harry told him, holding the other man square by the shoulders. "It's fine . . . It's fine!"

Just as Draco erupted into loud angry sobs that caused Professor Snape to step up, Hermione chose to ask a question. "Umm, Harry . . . I thought you said it was over last week?"

"YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS, HERMIONE?!" Ron bellowed.

"Oops." Harry turned reluctantly to his two best friends with wince already in place. Hermione was already trying to calm the redhead down, but Ron had already risen from his seat, face burning as red as his hair with fury. "Ron, do try to calm down."

"Calm down, Hermione! Calm down! How can I do that now?!" Ron snapped, ignoring not only his girlfriend's pleas, but also the disapproving tones of the mediwitch and his Head of House. "Now you know the only reason I didn't punch Harry dead in his face right away for cheating on my sister was because I was waiting for his shock to wear off, but you knowing . . . and then not telling me! How could you?! Hermione, how could you?" He turned his gaze to his other best friend and shook his head. "And how could you?"

Harry couldn't answer, he only looked away. Ron shook his head once more and rushed from the room, Hermione on his heels. The remaining few in the room sat in awkward silence as they absorbed the sound of Draco's tears.

"Oh God! Madam Pomfrey, why am I crying so much?!" the blonde finally snapped, rubbing vigorously at his wet cheeks and eyes before Harry pulled his hands away from his face for fear of bruises.

"That would be the hormones and the stress, dearie," the witch explained as she scribbled a bit more on her pad. "Now, that reminds me, are you normally in stressful situations such as these?"

"You mean 'stressful situation' in being forced to marry the Savior of the Wizarding world by my overbearing father because said savior got me pregnant?" The witch nodded. "No, I don't believe I am."

Professor Snape right out laughed, but recovered nicely with what sounded like a Dragon Pox caused hacking cough.

"Are you alright, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey asked, genuinely concerned.

"Why, yes I am, Poppy. Thank you for asking," the professor replied, a bit of a sneer forming on his pallid face as he met eyes with Harry. "But perhaps you should ask Potter. He seems a bit green."

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, turning back to the elderly witch. "So does he have to avoid stress?"

"Yes. A lot of stress can be bad for the baby. The mother must always remain in the right state of mind seeing as both of you are male and the baby is essentially being carried in a womb of your combined magic. Without a calm frame of mind, the health of the child could drastically decline," the witch explained. Harry was surprised when Draco did not bat an eye at being called a "mother", but instead brought a hand to his stomach. "So no stress, no panicking, and absolutely no overexerting yourself, Mr. Malfoy. Do you hear me, child?"

"Yes, ma'am," Draco replied, a faraway look in his eyes. Harry knew exactly what the other was thinking; how in the hell were they to keep Draco calm, cool, and collected when the shit had already hit the fan?

* * *

"Can someone please explain to me how the hell I managed to get Draco Malfoy pregnant?"

"Well, Harry. When a wizard and a wizard like one another . . ." Ron began as he folded his hands behind his head in an overstuffed chair in the center of the Gryffindor common room. Harry ignored the comment as he had ignored every sarcastic remark the redhead had made since punching him in the face over an hour ago.

Harry stretched his arms above his head and moved to place his face in his hands, but flinched terribly when he was reminded of the awful bruise on his face by the pain of it. "Ouch . . . shit."

Hermione sat on the large couch between the feuding pair and she looked hesitantly to her boyfriend before asking Harry, "You seriously don't know?"

"No, I don't, Hermione. They explained to me that Draco was pregnant, but they didn't explain to me how."

"Umm . . . Well . . . I think I have a book. Wait a moment!" she told him before bolting up from the couch and dashing to her dormitory only to return the next minute with one of the biggest books Harry had ever seen her with. "Give me a moment . . . I think it's in the chapter after love potions . . . Ah, here it is!

"'_Much like a potion of lust or love, when the enchanting euphoria of sex between two wizards or two witches occurs other amazing occurrences, much like bouts of anger or insanity usually caused by the forced intensity of a love potion, the blessing of a child can bloom from the magic of love.'_" She set the book down on the table before her and looked between her two friends expectantly.

"What?!" they both snapped simultaneously, utter confusion that could rival the confusion caused by one of Professor Trelawney's lectures very evident between the pair.

"Voldemort was conceived under the influence of a love potion! Are you saying my child is going to turn into that?!"

"Who was that written by? A relative of the Lovegood's, was it?"

"'Much like bouts of anger or insanity'?"

"'Magic of love'? That sounds like one of your bloody romance novels, 'Mione!"

"Well, I'm glad the two of you are binding your shattered friendship back together with the torn ribbons of my pride, but I'll explain it in terms you may follow," Hermione snapped, crossing he arms and pursing her lips in a manner that automatically had them shutting their mouths. "The book is explaining that the magic that creates a child between same-sex couples is much like the magic that causes a love potion to be so intense. However, like the genuine anger or insanity caused by real feelings only enhanced by a love potion, pregnancy is caused by emotion just as strong. Perhaps, even stronger."

"Emotion like lust or love?" Harry asked slowly, thinking what his friend said over.

"Extreme lust or genuine love," she replied. "At least, that's what this book suggests, but it's a theory really."

"Well, I have two Uncle Bobs who have a son, Robert, who has always been a bit dinky to me," Ron mused, scratching his chin in thought.

"Dinky?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he's strange, that Robert. I don't think it could possibly be lust or love that conceived him. For one, Uncle Bob and Uncle Bob hate each other and, for another, I can't even imagine them having sex, let alone stomach the thought of it."

"Well, thank you, Ron, for your ever so delightful insertion, but I think we should look at the situation between Harry and Mal--Draco. Shouldn't we?"

"I guess," the redhead said absently, playing with a piece of thread on his sleeve.

The bushy-haired girl rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry. "So what did Dumbledore say after you and Draco left the hospital wing?"

"He basically said he was going to have a discussion with the Malfoy's before he called me in. I just don't know when that's going to happen," Harry told her.

"Perhaps the head in the fireplace can give you an answer," Ron said, pointing to the image of Professor McGonagall's face amongst the flames.

"Mr. Potter, the headmaster is ready to see you and he wants you to know that he feels quite in the mood for a chimichanga." And with that, Harry's Head of House disappeared in a fiery eruption.

* * *

Harry made it to the old statue of the gargoyle a moment before Draco rounded the opposite corner. He smiled at the blonde who only threw a scowl in his direction.

"Potter," he greeted gruffly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Malfoy," Harry snapped back, turning to the gargoyle. "So I see you were also called to the headmaster."

"Yeah. Professor Snape sent me a message. I guess the old man wants to talk to us together, but what I don't get is why he said the thing about a chimichanga." The word barely left Draco's lips and already the gargoyle had hopped to the side and revealed the spiral staircase it guarded.

"It's the password," Harry said as he gestured for the other to go before him.

"Oh, duh," Draco said quietly, walking up the stairs as he straightened his robes a bit. "Hey, Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think my parents are still in there?"

"Yeah."

"You know, you could have just lied to make me feel better for at least this one moment."

"Fine," Harry chuckled as they reached the large wooden door to Dumbledore's office. "I'll keep that in mind for when we're married."

Green eyes widened in surprise at the words as a pale, horrified face turned to gape at him. "Oh my God, this is seriously happening. We're getting--"

The door before him chose to swing open at that moment and Harry sighed his relief, happy not to be subjected to one of Draco's notorious panicky rants he had been witness to many times before.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, glad you could find time to oblige us with your presence," Professor Snape's slick voice said, a snide smile on his face as he gestured for the boys to come in. "Draco, your parents are having a very interesting conversation about the two of you that you may want to join."

Harry frowned and pushed past one of his least favorite people in the world to sit across from his mentor, his fiancé, his Head of House, and two angry Malfoy's . . . well, at least Lucius looked angry. Draco took the seat beside him and looked nervously around, waiting to speak after he was spoken to like the good little heir he was raised to be.

The headmaster tapped the tips of his fingers together a moment before he addressed the room. "The matter of the impending marriage due to the curse has been discussed thoroughly over the past hour and we have found no other solution than these two young men to be wed."

"Excuse me, Professor," Harry interjected, embarrassing himself a bit by raising his hand then quickly lowering it as if in class. "Can someone explain the curse to me?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Well, Mister Potter, the curse Lucius conducted on you--quite illegally in my eyes--is an ancient and, may I add, barbaric marriage spell--"

"Ensured to hold young lovers to their obligations and bloodlines pure," Lucius interrupted, his smile far slicker than his hair. "The spell guarantees that no adultery or, as in this case, illegitimate heirs occur, even before the actual marriage."

"You fail to tell him that you've just practically cursed him to his death unless he does as you wish," the elder witch snapped, her chest puffed up and her expression indignant.

"Death?" Harry asked.

"If we don't get married within the next week, we'll die," Draco said quietly. "That's why it's considered more of a curse than just a spell. It cannot be lifted unless there is some outside party interruption." He touched his stomach absently and looked away.

"Isn't there . . . I . . . I didn't agree to this," Harry told them. He watched Dumbledore close his eyes and felt his heart begin to pound.

"I'm afraid that's what we've been arguing about, Harry," the headmaster sighed. "Draco has already consented to marriage to Pansy, but since he is now carrying your shared child, he breeched the curse's agreement, which could have possibly doomed himself as well as Miss Parkinson. The easiest way to remove this threat, according to Lucius, would be to not remove the curse, but transfer it."

"Why not remove the curse?" the green-eyed teen asked, looking to each face before him desperately.

"Because, Mister Potter, that would take extremely dark magic to accomplish," Lucius explain slowly.

"I thought you were an expert in that," Harry inferred flatly.

Steel grey eyes lit up in amusement. "Well, the Ministry has banned me from the usage of all dark magic for the next twenty years, I fear. I'm being monitored as well, so no magic of the sort can be near me at any time without my immediate return to Azkaban." A slow smile spread across his face. "Lucky for me, this spell won't be branded as dark for at least the next two years."

Harry scowled and turned his attention back to the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore. "Professor, you said Draco consented. Even within transferring the curse, wouldn't I still have to consent myself?"

"I'm afraid to say no, but the truth of the matter is, you are seventeen years of age and you no longer have a guardian," the silver-haired man told him. "You consented the moment you created life within Draco. I'm afraid there's nothing else I can do, Harry."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, I don't really like this chapter, but it's one of those necessary filler things that brings everyone up to speed and explains certain things. I know, I know, I'm touching on a bit of a clichéd subject (a bond that causes marriage) but I like those. It forces those to fools to do what they know they should do in their hearts. Anywho, this might be the first chapter I wrote with no sex. I'm not sure, I'll check after I post this, but the next chapter is the wedding and there will definitely be some wookie in that and I'm not talking Chewbacca. (Forgive me; I get my corny lines from my sister.) In fact, the next few chapters will be filled with nothing but sex because I'm a pervert and I'm sure I know a few others that could join that club. (Coughs and points to you.) Anywho, thanks for reading and please tell me what you think. _**-DMH**_


	9. Wedding

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General** **Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** Wedding bells, Rita smells, Draco is still pregnant!

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Amazing as it seems, I am not J.K. Rowling and my genius mind did not invent the characters of Harry Potter. Sorry to anyone who believed I did. I know, I know, it seems so logical . . .

**Author's Note:** This chapter includes a sex scene that is super enhanced by the most wonderful song on the planet, my favorite song, Ne-Yo's _Say It_. Every line that Harry says during said sex scene is from the song cuz it's so freakin' hot . . . Listen to it! _**-DMH**_

* * *

Chapter Nine

"Draco, please don't cry again!"

"I'm not crying," the blond sobbed into his fiancé's chest. "I just-I just-I just--"

"You're just crying," Harry corrected, stroking his fingers slowly through the other's soft, silky hair. They were sitting in the middle of the busy Gryffindor common room and, surprisingly, no one said a word to the cuddling couple. They only glared. "Tell me what's wrong, Draco."

"What's wrong?!" the Slytherin suddenly snapped, yanking himself from the other's arms and rising from the couch they lay across. "What's wrong, Potter, you potent, petulant, pretentious prole?!" At the insult, every eye that might not have been on Draco was now on Draco. "How could you even ask that, you bastard whore?!"

Harry stood; only to be knocked down a moment later by the force of Draco's right hook. The blond stormed from the room and all was quiet for a moment until Ron said, "I knew you shouldn't have brung a Slytherin in the Gryffindor common. Bad luck, that is."

* * *

Harry found his fiancé brooding under a tall tree overlooking the lake. The blond looked up when he came closer, but said nothing, quietly allowing the other to sit. He clutched both hands tightly in his lap and stared out into the glittering water.

"It's a bit chilly out, hmm?" the brunet sighed, turning towards the lake as well. He saw the nod out the corner of his eye and was relieved just to have gotten an answer. "How are you feeling?"

"Chilly." Harry laughed and took the cloak from his back and wrapped it around the other's shoulders. Draco moved closer, snuggling into the other's side until the brunet gave him a shoulder to rest his aching head on. "This is strange."

"How so?"

"'How so?' Just sitting, looking out at the lake with my fiancé, Harry Potter. You don't find this strange?"

Harry nodded slowly after a moment of thought. "I find it strange, but I don't think it's weird. I think it's just . . . not the norm."

"Nice was of putting it, Potter."

"Thanks."

Draco fiddled a moment with the ties of the thick cloak around his shoulders and nibbled his bottom lip in thought. "How do you feel?"

"Not so good," Harry replied, reaching under his cloak to find the blond's cool hand. He played with the slender fingers for a moment. "I've been punched three times in the face today."

Draco sat up to look at the other's black eyes. "I've been meaning to ask about that. I know I punched you . . ."

"And before that: Ron."

"And before that?"

Harry looked down at their join hands. "Ginny."

Draco looked down as well and pulled his fingers away. "Because of what happened."

"Because I broke up with her," the brunet corrected.

"Because of what happened," Draco argued, silver eyes glinting in the light of the setting sun. "You broke up with her because of me. Because . . . of our baby."

Harry shook his head and reached for the other's hand again, snatching it before the Slytherin could pull back. "I did break up with her because of you, but I did it before I knew of the baby. I did it because of yesterday. Because of last night. Because we made love."

"Do you know what tree we're sitting under, Harry?" the blond asked suddenly, yanking his hand back and standing. He allowed the cloak baring a Gryffindor lion to fall off his back and he walked around the tree, tentatively touching the tree bark. "Do you, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, but stood as well.

"This is the tree we were under the first time we fucked. Do you remember that night? How hot it was? How forbidden everything seemed?"

Harry nodded, but was afraid to say a word. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew if he said the wrong thing, he would trigger the other's anger.

"It still feels so sweetly forbidden every time I am with you. Even more so when you began dating the Weasley girl, but now . . . everyone knows. Everyone. The entire school and I'm sure it'll be in the papers, if not tonight, tomorrow morning. Then everyone will know."

"Are you ashamed?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I'm ashamed!" Draco snapped; tears appearing as his pointed nose flared. "How could I not be? Our sexual . . . deviance is now out there for the entire world to ridicule and discuss. I have shamed my family. My mother . . . Harry, did you see my mother's face?"

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize, you idiot," the blond ordered, wiping the few tears that fell from his now flushed cheeks. "It's my fault, you know. Last night . . . I tied you--"

"Stop it!" the brunet shouted and he reached out to pull Draco into his arms. "It is not your fault. If it's anyone's, then it's mine."

"Only because you didn't get rid of me before any of this mess even started," the pale teen sighed, pressing his forehead against the other's. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

Draco turned his head to look at the lake. The sun was almost gone and only a thin sliver of light could be seen over the horizon. "This is a cliché."

"What?" Harry asked, looking at the soft ear presented to him and aching because he wanted to nibble it, but was too afraid to try.

"The sunset, the apologies, all this crap," the blond said, pulling himself from the other's arms. "We're a big clichéd mess and we need to address it. Potter, all the sunsets in the world is not going to fix what we've fucked up."

"Draco, we can try," the brunet stressed.

"Wasn't it you who said just the other day that we would never work? Not much has changed since then, Potter!"

"Not much . . . You're pregnant! That fucking changes everything!" Harry snapped, roughing pushing his fingers through his hair. "Everything is different now!"

"Really?" Draco stared at the other man until his emerald eyes dropped to the ground. He marched up and snatched Harry's chin so that their gazes were even once more. "Really? Can you honestly look at me and say that your feelings for me have changed? Don't you still feel the same way about me as you did a few days ago? Can you honestly say that you do?"

Harry stared back into those sharp silver eyes; they dug deeper into him than the nails pressing against the skin of his chin. "I can honestly say that I feel the same way about you today as I did a few days ago."

"Exactly!" Draco released his chin roughly. "Nothing has changed. We're the same two people in a new situation that is more fucked up than our original situation and I have no idea how to deal with it."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," Harry sighed, running a hand over his face as if to wipe away his stress.

"You don't have to tell me anything, Potter," Draco said, straightening his robes and looking back towards the castle. He looked back at his fiancé for a moment and quickly averted his gaze from those vulnerable green eyes. "You better pick that up, Harry. Your cloak is in the mud."

* * *

Draco found it hard to concentrate on ignoring his husband-to-be when the man looked so miraculous standing on a stool in stunning silver and black dress robes while Madam Malkin fussed around him, pinning pieces of fabric frantically and occasionally poking the frowning wizarding hero. The blond looked away each and every time green eyes went searching for his own, but he felt that hot gaze piercing through him. He had no idea why Harry insisted on having him sit in on his fitting--the blond already had his own and was now sitting in a large chair with his dress robes folded neatly in a box on his lap--but he no longer questioned it, loving the way the fussy tailor made Harry put on clothes and take of clothes and put on clothes and take off--

He snapped out of his hormone haze and started when he noticed fiery emerald eyes on him. He clutched his box tightly and looked down at his hands.

He really didn't understand why he had to sit in.

He frowned. He hadn't wanted Harry to watch when he was fitted for some reason. He blamed it on his hormones, but he had to admit that he really wanted what he looked like for the wedding to be a secret until it was time.

"God, I'm getting married," he whispered softly to himself.

"Wow, marriage," a soft voice from the doorway iterated from the doorway. Three pairs of eyes flew to the direction of the voice and a low groan filled the air.

"You," Harry hissed.

A single penciled on brow rose and ruby red lips quirked in pleasure. "Hello, Harry Potter. Or should I say Harry Malfoy? Or should I say Potter-Malfoy?"

"You don't need to say anything, you can just leave," Harry suggested as the tailor began to sew around him once more. High heels clicked across the floor like the steady trot of a horse and a long, claw-like nail tapped a strong jaw.

"Harry, dear, aren't you going to introduce me to the man you're to marry?" the "blonde" asked sweetly.

"I believe you already know Draco, Rita. Remember? Three years ago?" Harry snapped, narrowly avoiding a pair of scissors Madam Malkin had sent to trim his robes. Draco flushed at the mention of his dirty deeds during the TriWizard Tournament, but he said nothing. That is, until the hungry reporter looked his way.

"Why hello, Mister Malfoy! Nice to see you again!" the woman's shrill voice rang out as she held out her hand. Instead of the kiss upon her fingers she expected from the cultured gentleman, she received a hearty handshake.

"Hi," he said sharply, but Rita's smile never faded.

"So, how are you coping with the idea of marriage life with Harry Potter?" she asked, the feathered tip of an acid green quill peeking out from her large, tacky red bag. Draco's eyes went wide and his cheeks went crimson. "Oh, does the idea appeal to you?"

"Leave him alone, Rita," Harry snarled, causing the notorious reporter to turn in his direction.

"So you want the interview to yourself, do you, Harry?" she giggled, her pad and her quill jumping out of the bag to present themselves to the green-eyed man. "So tell me, how much are you looking forward to being wed to Mister Malfoy? How long have you been dating? What do you think of the fact that Draco was to wed another only a week ago? When was the baby conceived?"

"Go away. Go away. Go away. And-" He paused thoughtfully. "-go away. No further questions."

"I think you should leave," Madam Malkin suggested as her scissors flew gracefully into her hand. Rita's eyebrows couldn't have been any higher had she originally drawn them there.

"Fine, I know when I'm not welcomed," she stated, holding her hands up in defeat as her quill scratched frantically behind her.

"Then you should also know that you're still not welcomed on Hogwarts castle grounds," Harry told her as she walked to the door. She spun around and poked out her tongue. "See you never, Rita baby."

* * *

The week sped by faster than any week of Harry's life. He hadn't even felt this rush or unsure of himself or unprepared when he fought Voldemort to the death.

And now he was standing in a small restroom; sweat trailing down his face, hands shaking, breath shallow, waiting for his life to change forever.

"Calm down, Harry. Calm down, Harry," he ordered himself. "You are not scared of Draco. You are not scared of Draco."

"Well, that's good to know, seeing as you're going to be marrying him in the next few minutes." He spun around and sputtered when he saw Ginny before him, wearing a simple black dress and baby's breath in her hair just behind her ear.

"'Lo Ginny," he said sheepishly, looking everywhere but at the redhead.

"Hello, Harry . . . So!" she said excitedly, clapping her hands together. "You're getting married! Nice! Glad to see that your eye, er, eyes healed."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I had to get new glasses, though. Turns out you can only do so many repairing spells before the thing you keep repairing just turns to dust."

She laughed for a moment, a sweet sound he found he had missed. "How sad . . . Well, Harry, I have a wedding present for you."

He arched a brow over his new silver frames and frowned. A present. A wedding present. From his exgirlfriend.

Automatically not good.

But he was a Gryffindor, so he could do nothing but move forward. "What?"

"Have you ever heard of that game Seven Minutes in Heaven?" she asked, her large brown eyes batting innocently. She was so bad at playing innocent.

"I'm getting married, Ginny."

"You had no qualms about cheating before, Harry, why start now?" she asked haughtily, the serene look on her face melting off to make room for her anger. "Besides, I'm not here for that. Yet. I want to give you a variation of the game."

He couldn't even question any of what she just said because she was pulling the flowers from her hair and holding them out to him. He took them and she smiled at him as she would to humor a stupid person.

"I present to you Seven Minutes in Hell with Rita Skeeter," she said just as he noticed a small spotted beetle on the little flowers. His eyes widened as the bug began to grow and he looked to Ginny, but she was already running out of the door. He ran to just as it slammed and he tried to open it, but--predictably--it was locked. He pulled out his wand and waved it a few times to no avail. Then Ginny's sweet voice simpered from the other side, "She has the counter-curse. Just give her what she wants."

He turned almost theatrically, leaning heavily back on the door as he met the sight of bleached blonde hair, bleached white teeth, and an amazingly acidic looking green quill. She smiled, revealing a bit of red lipstick on those horribly white teeth, and adjusted her black, bejeweled spectacles. "I believe you owe me an interview, Mister Potter."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy adjusted his tie one final time and looked around the grounds impatiently. "Where the hell is he? Doesn't he know he'll die if he doesn't show up?"

"Oh hush, dear," Narcissa shushed, patting his shoulder affectionately. "I'm sure he's coming."

"He better be or he'll die," the blond snapped, flicking his ponytail over his shoulder and tapping his foot.

"Calm down, you're making Draco nervous," his wife sighed, gesturing toward their son who was currently standing by a tree, shaking like a leaf, and staring out into the water of the lake.

Lucius looked to his son and made a rude sound of dismissal a man of his stature should not make. "He's been like that for the whole of last week. He's making himself nervous."

"Oh thank goodness, there's Harry," Narcissa huffed out in relief. Her husband spun around to see and scowled.

"Where have you been, Potter?" he growled to the other man. Harry pushed his fingers roughly through his hair and scowled back at the man who would be his father-in-law in the next few moments.

"I was busy. Where's Draco?" Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but his wife smacked his arm and pointed in the direction of her son. "Thank you." He walked over to his fiancé and tapped the trembling blond on his shoulder gently. "Draco?"

Draco turned towards him and Harry's mouth went dry, his heart stopped, and his mind went blank at the sight of the man who would be his husband. The blond was wearing robes much like his own, but, instead of black lined with silver, he wore white and silver . . . Lots and lots of white . . .

His robes were much tighter than Harry's, adorning him like a second skin and showing off the wonderful body the brunet ached for at night. "Wow, you look . . . you look . . . Wow."

The blond blushed and smiled sweetly before moving around the other. "Is it time to start?"

Harry nodded and watched as Draco walked . . . sauntered to the archway in which they were to enter the area set up for the wedding. He followed like a lovesick puppy. Narcissa smiled at the sight, wrapped a small, slender hand around her husband's arm, and tugged him ahead of the betrothed pair so that they could prepare the crowd for the upcoming ceremony.

"Attention everyone! Attention! It's time, so can everyone please take their seats? Thank you, thank you. Lucius, say 'thank you'!"

"Thanks."

Before Harry realized what was happening, the music was playing and Draco's arm was in his.

"If you wish to live, Potter, I suggest you move," came the sweet voice of his lover in his ear and his feet began to move. He forced a smile on his face, scared that his jumpy nerves would push it right off as he saw the faces of all his friends and their families. After what seemed like a long walk off a short cliff, they finally made it to the end of the aisle, right before where the Binder stood.

The old man turned his face to Draco so slowly that Harry expected his neck to creak and they both were surprised when what seemed like a wane smile graced his leathery brown face. "Hello, Draco. Nice to see you again."

Draco squeaked, but smiled as wide as he could. "Hello."

The old man turned that frightening face Harry's was and the brunet felt his back automatically straighten. The Binder held his hand out and Harry placed his own hand in it. The old man turned back to Draco and repeated the process with the nervous blond, accepting his shaking hand with a stoic expression. He positioned the hands in such a way that Harry's right palm was facing upwards and Draco's left was hovering right above it.

They stood like this for a long moment, no one daring to make a sound, until finally he spoke, his voice a low croak, "_Matri_."

The invisible patterns etched into their wrists began to glow; Draco's purple as Harry's burned gold. The Binder slowly pushed their hands together.

"Is it sticking? No more babies?" Lucius asked, standing on his toes to gain a better look and gaining a smack in the head from his wife because of it. "Sorry."

Their wrists began to lessen in their glow only to return bright once more; Harry's white and Draco's black until the light disappeared. The Binder smiled his creepy smile once more and stepped back. "It is done."

The newlywed couple stared at one another a long moment. The grounds were completely silent. The tension was thick.

And then Harry reached out to his husband and attempted to kiss the life from the other man. Draco whimpered and sunk into the kiss, his fingers trailing into inky black hair.

"Well, I guess we all now know how he got pregnant," Ron huffed loudly, earning a smack on the arm by Hermione.

* * *

Draco washed his face slowly, tracing his skin with the soap his mother gave him. He ran his hands down his body, stopping at the hem of his silk pajama bottoms. He played with the edge of the silver fabric and sighed out a shuttered breath. He was alone in his parent's giant summer home, on an island no one knew existed, with his husband, Harry Potter.

He touched his stomach, hoping it was his unborn child causing him such discomfort and not his nervousness.

He took one final deep breath and walked slowly from the bathroom and into the bedroom where the dark hell angel that was his husband lay draped over the bed like the incarnation of every sexual fantasy known to man.

"Close the door," Harry whispered and a violent shudder went through the blond as he did as he was told. The dark angel crooked his finger and Draco's feet seemed to move on their own. Soon he was standing before the other man, his bare chest heaving up and down, his body trembling with want when the other man hadn't even laid a finger on him yet. Large, dark hands reached up and wrapped around his thin waist, pulling his navel closer to the other man's mouth. A hot tongue dipped inside, swirling around and pressing forward harshly, sending a spark of pleasure to Draco's nether regions. He trailed his fingers into that sinfully dark hair and gasped when he looked down. He had never really noticed the contrast of their skin, had never noticed how pale his fingers looked in that black, black hair. Harry's lips, smooth and hot, trailed lower, brushing down the hair that led to the place he wanted his husband's mouth most. Harry nuzzled that soft hair with just the teasing tip of his nose as his fingers slowly slipped the silk pants from his lover's ready body.

Draco gasped when the cool air rushed upon his newly bared skin, he hissed when his hardness accidently brushed against the other's chin, and his hands tightened in the wild dark curls. He closed his eyes, knowing that at any sign that Harry was going to do what he hoped Harry was going to do with him, he threatened to explode.

"Lay down," Harry whispered, standing in all his dark, naked glory. Draco almost wanted to ask where his black wings were, but he was distracted by the hot hands pushing him down on the bed. The other man climbed atop him, planting soft kisses on his closed eyelids, his cheek, his nose, moving down to take his time tasting Draco's sweet lips and mouth, settling for a moment at the base of Draco's long, elegant neck. He bit gently, sucking immediately at the sensitive skin and the blond hissed, his back arching, his toes curling from the euphoria. Harry began to move lower and the silver-eyed man wasn't sure if he could continue on with the amazing torture he was being put through.

Harry's tongue was relearning the texture of his nipples, seemingly putting the feel of them to memory. He sucked and teased, nibbled and tasted until Draco was rubbing himself against the other's hard stomach. He whimpered his husband's name softly, but the dark angel continued his slow, sadistic journey to his goal.

He attacked the area between Draco's navel and his hardness mercilessly, nipping violently at the hair found there, licking the unbelievably soft skin.

Finally, his kissed lower and lower until he was caressing the crown of Draco's need with his smooth lips, already slightly swollen from their earlier acts. Draco reached around suddenly and gripped himself tight.

"No, no, no. Not like that," Harry told him as if correcting a child who was taught wrong. He pulled Draco's hand loose and wrapped it around the pale length once more, guiding it to pump slowly up and down. "Like this . . . I like that."

Draco closed his eyes and bent a knee, his toes curling so tight that he felt the sheet of the bed bunch up between them. Harry's around him, guiding him . . . his arched, oh so ready for completion, but Harry's plans were far different than his own.

The brunet pulled their hands away; using his devilish mouth against the whimpering other's neck to distract the lack of pleasure with more pleasure.

"Okay, now here's what I want you to do," he murmured into Draco's soft ear. "I want you to look me right in my eyes . . ." Silver eyes snapped open and locked with simmering emerald. "And I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you . . ." Straight white teeth nipped the other's bright pink lips briefly. "You ready?"

Draco could do nothing more than nod.

He told Harry about how much he wanted those hot hands all over his body.

And those hot hands were soon touching him everywhere.

He told Harry of how much he wanted to taste the other's mouth.

And he could taste nothing but Harry, feel nothing but the roughness of his velvety tongue.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," the angel breathed into his ear over and over. "Say it . . . Say it . . . Say it . . ."

Draco was burning, his body seeming to want to melt into the sheets. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk, let alone bring himself to say the things he wanted done to him the most.

"Don't play shy," Harry chuckled. "Show me how bold you can be . . . Open your mouth-" He slipped his tongue out only to dip into another mouth slowly for a moment before pulling away once more. "-and tell me where you want me . . ."

Draco felt as if he was in the hands of a true master. He was the Moonlight Sonata and Harry's fingers and tongue and body were playing him, playing al of him all at once. He was music in Harry's hands, he was art, he was everything . . .

"Tell me what you want," the brunet ordered gruffly. Draco wanted to be licked. He voiced his need. "Oh, you want that? Say the word . . ." He bit his lip nervously as he stared into those deep, all knowing evergreen eyes. He traced his fingers over that dark, handsome face and sighed, leaning up for another kiss before he said what Harry wanted to hear. His husband smiled and leaned back, pulling the other up with him. "Turn around . . ."

Draco bit his pillow as the other's tongue dove into his body. He wanted to explode. He wanted to explode into tiny little pieces, only to be put back together and explode again. He wanted to die and be reborn all at once. He was already in the phoenix fire, Harry's tongue just further coaxing the flame, building him up higher and higher until he was sobbing heavily into the large bed's blanket's, begging for satisfaction. It was so close . . . so close . . . he could feel it, taste it, touch it, he was touching it . . . He screamed, a low, guttural, savage sound, starting low in his stomach and spreading like fire through and out of him. He exploded just as he had wanted to, more than he wanted to.

He collapsed listlessly onto the bed, only to be pulled up again into his husband's strong arms.

He heard a muttered spell and he was filled with a cool, familiar liquid, and then Harry was filling him, pumping into him, completing him. He tried hard to remain in the position he was placed in, but, as those hard thrusts persuaded him back into the arousal he had experienced moments before, he fell back onto his elbows, unable to gather the strength to support himself in any other way. He cried out with each piercing movement into his body. Harry was so precise . . . so precise with each and . . . every . . . stroke . . . over and over . . . in . . . and . . . out . . . more . . . and more . . . more . . . more . . .

"Anything that you want, baby, tell me you want it," Harry gasped into his ear as he moved faster. His breathing was harsh, his body was tensing. "I got it, babe . . . Anything . . . Tell me how you want it . . . Tell me how you want it, baby . . ."

Draco came again, emptying himself on the sheets his fingers had practically ripped apart. Harry shuddered over him violently, filling him, overflowing with in. The gasped as they shook together. They screamed and screamed and still they moved until one final pump, one final thrust, one more deep intrusion ended it all and they fell into one another, sobbing and kissing and tasting until they wanted to do it all over again.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ay Chihuahua, hoped you liked that! _**-DMH**_


	10. Wed

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** Honeymoon couple; Sexy Harry; Oversexed Draco; Baby names . . . aww!

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** I do not believe that J.K. Rowling has a mind as dirty as mine and if she does, I doubt she would put anything like this into the Deathly Hallows.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a lot of smut cuz I'm a very, very smutty girl and I haven't been reading any good smut lately and I need a fix, so I had to write my own. Someone write me some smut! **_–DMH_**

Chapter Ten

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Hmm?"

"Breakfast?"

"Are we having it in bed?"

"No, we'll have to go to the kitchen and make it."

A large groan of displeasure erupted from under the large pile of pillows Harry was talking to and the top of a silvery blond head peeked over the edge of the large, black comforter. "Where are the bloody house elves?"

"No house elves here, Draco."

"Well, that sucks."

Harry chuckled and pulled down the large comforter revealing a smooth, gorgeous face inch by precious inch. "Come on, let's get up."

"No," Draco said, shaking his head and sinking back under the pillow fort he had created in his sleep. Harry chased after him and soon the two were playfully wrestling. "Harry, stop it . . . Harry!"

With a final affectionate nip to a pale neck, Harry pulled himself up and climbed from the bed. He pulled on his black sleep pants as his husband watched in appreciation of his body. "Here's the plan. We'll get up--"

"Which means you'll carry me," Draco translated with a nod.

"--we'll go to the kitchen and we'll fix breakfast--"

"You mean you'll make breakfast and I'll eat."

"--and then we'll take a shower and clean these sheets--"

"You'll run me a bath and while I soak, you change the covers."

"Get up, you git!" Harry hissed, yanking every blanket from the blond's naked frame, causing Draco to squeak and jump into his arms.

"Harry, I'm naked!" he gasped as if scandalized.

The brunet's hands went around to cup each delicious cheek of Draco's behind and he gave his husband a quick peck. "I know, isn't it great? Let's go to the kitchen."

"But I'm naked! Seriously, Potter, let me get some pants," he snapped as the other man began to carry him from the room. "Put me down!"

"I've decided to carry you, just like you wanted," the green-eyed man teased, nuzzling the side of the other's temple. "If you wanted pants, you should have gotten up yourself."

The blond pouted as he was carried through the large summer home his own family owned. He was finally sat down on the icy cold marble counter of the kitchen island and he pouted some more. Harry merely kissed the pout and looked down. "Hmm, it must be cold in here."

"Shut up!" Draco snarled; covering himself from his husband's prying eyes. "Don't tease."

"I'm sorry," Harry laughed as he turned to the pantry that was filled to the brim with fresh and magically preserved food. "So, what do you want for breakfast?"

"A fruit salad."

"Isn't that what you called it last night when I--"

"Harry, stop!" the blond gasped, placing his hands over his ears as crimson colored his bare skin. "Just cut up some fruit so I can put on some pants."

"Fine, if I must," he shrugged, pulling a variety of fruit off the shelves, all save for bananas. He began to slice and dice and soon a splendid salad of fruit was set on the counter beside Draco. The Slytherin smiled and reached towards the bowl, but Harry smacked at the top of his hand and shook his head. "What kind of fruit do you want?"

The blush glided across Draco's features once more when the brunet pushed himself between his legs. "Umm . . . I wanted a bit of pineapple."

Harry smiled and reached for a slice of the juicy, golden fruit and brought it to his lips where he sucked it for a moment, a thoughtfully seductive look on his face. He leaned forward, the fruit still between his 

lips, and pressed the pineapple into the other's man's mouth. Draco moaned at the sweet, tangy taste mixed with the spicy taste of his husband and pulled back to swallow the fruit down. "Mmm."

"Yeah, mmm," Harry chuckled, carefully plucking up a strawberry and pressing it to the other's pink, kiss swollen lips. "Taste."

Draco flicked his tongue out to trace the bumpy surface of the fruit before nipping the end lightly. He watched as green eyes lit up into burning emeralds and he gasped when the fruit began to run down his body to his chest. Harry rubbed the juicy tip of the berry against the blond's puckered nipple, staining the already pink nub an even deeper color. The strawberry dropped forgotten onto the floor as the Gryffindor dipped down to feast upon pale flesh and pink nipples.

"So . . . good," he moaned as he sucked. Draco's fingers pushed into his hair as he felt the other's erection skim the skin of his chest for a moment.

"Aah . . . Harry!"

"I think it's about time for our shower," the brunet suggested as he pulled away much to the dismay to the aroused blond on the countertop. He picked his husband up before he could protest and carried him from the room.

"But I wanna take a bath."

"We're taking a shower."

"But I like baths."

"I'm sure you do, but we're taking a shower."

"But--"

"We're taking a shower!"

"Fine!" Draco snapped as they reached the bathroom, his mouth a pretty pout that Harry just had to kiss. They kissed their way into the shower and the blond blindly reached to cut on the shower and, thus, doused his husband in icy cold water. Harry yelped comically and dropped the blond, who managed to catch himself before any major damage could occur. "Harry!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry gasped, falling to his knees and pressing his face against Draco's flat, pale abdomen as freezing water beat down on his naked back. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Potter," Draco sighed. "Get up and take off your pants. We need to get clean."

* * *

"Stop poking it."

"Shut up . . . half of it is mine."

"So?"

"Shut up and let me touch it," Harry whined, earning a grimace from Draco and a slap on the hand. "Lemme touch it!"

"Fine," Draco snapped, lifting up his sleep shirt to reveal his flat stomach. "Touch away." He gasped at the sudden feeling of warming inside of him when a large golden hand spanned his pale skin. "Wow."

"I know . . . It warms up for you every time I touch it?" Harry asked softly, his eyes wide as he absorbed the feeling of his child.

"Yeah," the blond replied just as softly, his voice a bit shaky.

"Boy or girl?"

"What?"

"Do you think the baby's a boy or a girl?" the brunet asked again, taking his hand away shyly. Draco hesitated for a bit as he stroked up and down his stomach.

"It's a boy."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it," the Gryffindor was told.

"Mother's intuition?"

"No, I can just . . . I dunno. I just know this child is a boy. I think I want to name him Evan." Emerald eyes looked up at him for a minute . . . and then even longer so that he was blushing. "What?"

"Kiss me, Draco," Harry ordered, pulling himself up so that he leaned over the other man. The blond looked up at him and his eyes filled with tears.

"Alright."

* * *

Draco arched up helplessly into his husband, his hands gripping at any tanned flesh he could reach. His short nails dug as deep as they could into his lover's back so that a trail of what appeared to be tiny crescent moons ranged over the dark haired man's back. The blond hissed as he felt a hot tongue run across his collarbone and his long, lean legs lifted and parted automatically so that his Harry could nestle between them. He groaned out loud as their arousals brushed and burned against one another. His moans were caught in Harry's mouth as the brunet kissed him; nipping and licking his lips until they were plump and red. Soon, Draco's moans were so loud that he could barely hear the words flowing from his husbands lips. "Harry . . . Oh, Harry . . . What?"

"I said . . ." The deep voice trailed off as another moan erupted from the paler man's body. Harry was tracing his hands up and down his sensitive sides, his thumbs stroking over pert pink nipples, his tongue painting a picture in the center of his heaving chest.

"What, Harry?" he gasped out after missing the statement for a second time.

Harry chuckled low in his throat, a sound that only caused the blond's erection to stiffen and leak more. "Baby, listen to me when I'm talking to you." The Chosen One cupped his lover's face in his large, rough hands and blessed the pale, unblemished skin with tiny little kisses. "I want you, Draco. I want you so much . . ."

"Harry, what did you say?" Draco breathed out, missing out again at brunet's soft spoken words because his heartbeat was so loud. "I'm sorry."

"Aww, baby."

Harry took his blond's swollen lips again and wrapped his hands around each small, pale hip and lifted, causing yet another gasp their groins collided once more. "I said I want you to tie me up again. Dominate me, baby."

Silver eyes widen briefly in surprise, an expression that was soon replaced by genuine egotistical smugness. "I thought you said you never wanted me to do that again."

"Shut up," Harry laughed, dipping his head down to nip his husband's ear. He was rewarded with another lust filled gasp. "It's just that I've been making love to you all week and I think it's about time that you start giving what you're getting. And the only way you seem capable of doing that is with rope."

"Harry!" the blond gasped, slapping a hand none too gently on his lover's hard chest. "Shut up, Potter! If I wanted to make love to you, I wouldn't have to tie you down."

"Yes, you would." Harry gave a smirk that could rival his lover's own. "Otherwise, I dominate the entire situation. I _own_ your tight little ass."

"And I _own_ your big fat dick. Sit up, Potter, you bastard." The blond pushed up at the green-eyed man harshly, causing him to topple over onto his back. Harry winced; for some strange reason, he had forgotten Draco was so strong. Maybe it was all that submissiveness he was so good at feigning. Draco leaned back against the large canopy bed's many, many pillows imperiously and ordered Harry onto his knees. The Gryffindor complied and blushed under the immediate scrutiny his strong, blond husband gave his naked form. He could feel the cool silver gaze burning up his body; his strong thighs, his hardness, his chest, back to his hardness again, his lips, his hardness . . .

"Put your hands above your head, crossed at the wrist," the aristocrat ordered easily as he lay back on the pillows. Harry thought he looked like a white tiger; resting, yet in charge of the entire situation with his catlike grace. He made a quizzical face at the order, but complied, delighting when a smile graced his beautiful husband's face. Draco sat up and reached over to the nightstand where each his and Harry's 

wand rested. He lifted his wand, the thin length of hawthorn shining and polished in the low candlelight of the room. He lifted it slowly, pointed it to Harry's crossed wrists and silently shot a thin rope from the tip of it.

The rope was softer than last time as it wrapped around a beam of the bed used to hold up drapery and Harry's wrists. It felt like silk against the Gryffindor's skin and he actually moaned at the contact of it.

"I wasn't expecting to be tied up like this," he chuckled in the deep voice he knew his husband liked so much. Draco shuddered and set his wand on his naked lap, right beside his raging red erection.

"I know, Harry. That's why I did it, of course." He smirked, showing the brunet the correct manner in which to do so and lifted himself onto his knees. He leaned forward a bit and ghosted his lips against the other man's. "I will show you what it means to be owned, Harry. Now tell me what exactly you want me to do to you."

"I tell you what I want to do to you all the time. How is this any different?" Harry questioned.

Draco chuckled deviously and ran his slender hands up and down a strong tan chest. "Just tell me, baby."

"I want to watch you, like last time you had me all tied up. I want to watch you prepare yourself for me and not stop until you come hard. I want you to suck me. I want to come in your mouth and watch it dribble out the corners of it before you swallow. I want to fuck you hard. I want to see myself ramming in and out of that tight little ass until I can't stand anymore. I want you to hold yourself apart for me so I can see that tiny pink hole as I make you come, screaming my name."

Silver eyes lit up as if someone had shined a light behind them. "You sound as if you've thought of all of this for a while. Is this what you want?"

"Yes. I want that so badly."

"You want to see me touch myself, Harry?"

"I do."

"Are you going to beg me for it?" the blonde asked as his slender hand trailed down his own chest, over his still flat stomach to play with the pale hair at the root of his hardness. A green gaze followed the hand until another pale hand lifted Harry's chin. "Look up here, baby. Are you going to beg me for it?"

"Yes."

"Well then, beg, baby."

Harry looked straight into his sadistic husband's eyes and wondered why the hell he had put himself into this predicament. Draco was obviously fisting himself, his lips parted as short breaths escaped them, his long pale body swaying back and forth slightly with every up and down motion, and his silver beauties were shining with pure undeniable lust. And the little fucker wouldn't let him look down.

"Please, Draco. I want to see it."

"Hmm?" Pale eyes closed as a moan of pleasure erupted, but still Harry didn't look down.

"Please, Draco. Please let me watch you. Let me watch you come."

Harry loathed the desperation in his voice, but was pleased at the results. Draco smiled prettily, bright and white and lighting up his beautiful face. He fell back again, against the pillows so that Harry had to look down at him again. "Are you comfortable, Harry?"

"Yes, I guess so," he said, tugging gently at the bonds above his head. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. It's just that I plan on dragging out this orgasm for a l-o-o-o-ng time. Are you alright with that?"

"No." Draco's smile only widened.

The Slytherin adjusted himself until his was fairly comfortable on his back and lifted his soft foot up to be set over Harry's erratic heartbeat. It accidently brushed the man's sensitive tan nipple and Harry let out a loud moan. He blushed slightly as the emerald eyes traveled to the place his current position showcased, but he merely lifted his chin and continued the torture his husband was so admirably taking. He set his wand on his stomach, rubbing the soft skin of it affectionately a moment before trailing his hand back to his erection.

"Do you want to watch me finger myself, Harry?"

"Yes," the brunet hissed out, as the foot rubbed against him again. "Please, baby. Do it. Let me watch, please."

The blonde smiled and lifted his wand in his left hand and his right hand rose simultaneously. He flicked the sliver of wood briefly and watched in interest as the fingers of his right hand were coated in shining clear liquid. He didn't look up, but smiled when he heard the other man's breathing hitch. He set down his wand, slowly and carefully to draw out the moment, intent on making his husband wait for it. Then he leaned back, his right leg still on Harry's chest and set his left foot flat on the bed, his knee bent. He closed his eyes and pressed in the first finger, relishing in the fact that his groan of pleasure was accompanied by Harry's.

He hissed at the feeling of being inside himself, used to the physical aspect of it having been prepared by Harry the entire week prior, but reveling in the fact that he was doing it to himself. Pleasuring himself. For Harry.

He opened his eyes and immediately caught the other man's wild jeweled gaze. "Add another finger, please."

He smiled at his husband's request and pushed in another finger, pumping it gently up to the knuckle, then out again, only to pump it in deeper."Oh God, Harry . . ."

He added another finger and pushed back against it, his hips lifting up from the bed and thrusting back down over and over for his pleasure and Harry's. He looked towards his husband's straining erection and smiled widely at the sight of it; large and proud and dripping with want. Harry must have noticed his gaze because the great beast suddenly quivered.

He added another finger on behalf of his beautiful lover.

He pumped them and curled his index and middle finger for himself.

"OH GOD, HARRY!" He curled the fingers of his left hand around his member and began to pump violently, only focused on coming now. He bit his lip harshly, holding back a particularly large moan and he heard the faint call of the brunet's deep voice.

"Draco. Draco. Draco."

He opened his eyes to look up at the other man and gasped at the sight. The area around Harry's face and upper chest were bright red, sweat was dripping down the middle of his chest; his erection seemed impossibly harder than it had been moments before, large veins prominent and bulging on the dark skin of it. "Draco!"

"Don't worry, baby. I'm going to come for you," he moaned, moving both hands faster and faster. "I love it when you finger me, Harry. I love it that you want me so much. I love . . . Oh God, baby. Please, baby. Fuck, baby. Shit . . . Awwwww fuuuuuck!"

He was floating.

He was on fire and floating over ice.

Flames and icicles seemed to be licking all over his body; hot chills erupted from the fingers inside him to the fingers outside of him. He exploded, melting and freezing all at once. He body shot up from the bed, tightened around his fingers, released on his stomach for what seemed to be millions of millennia, over and over until his hot body cooled down and collapsed back onto the sheets. "Holy fucking cock-fuck-shit."

"Our child is going to have the dirtiest mouth in existence," Harry's voice chuckled above him. He groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Merely laid in the aftermath of himself and smiled dazedly.

"I still have to suck your dick, don't I?"

"That would be nice."

He opened one pale mercury eye and took in the sight of his husband. It looked as if he had been tugging on his bonds, his face was redder than before, his erection redder than even that, and he seemed as if he had no idea how to breathe. "I guess I can give you a little suck."

"Thank you, baby," Harry gasped out, actually whimpering as Draco dragged himself up to kiss him. "Don't brush up against me like that. I want to come in your mouth, baby. Please."

"Alright," he whispered softly, kissing down the other man's sweat streaked body until he reached a pasture of dark, dark hair. He nuzzled it and nipped gently, taking deep breaths within it to memorize the musky smell. He felt the hot jolt of Harry's erection as it brushed against the rim of his ear and realized how much his husband needed him from the loud moan the brunet gave. "Look at me, Harry."

"I am, baby."

He turned his head sideways so glazed green eyes could see and swallowed as much of his husband as he could. Harry went deep in his throat, in and out of his mouth, sliding over his tongue, running against the top of his mouth. He moaned in pleasure at the feel of Harry hard and wet in his mouth. He began to harden once again and used one of the hands that had previously been holding the Gryffindor's hips still to surround and stroke himself into full arousal.

Harry was moaning--more like hoarsely screaming--above him and he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until he was swallowing the white hot fluid of his Gryffindor's satisfaction.

"Come up here and let me taste it with you." Draco lifted immediately at the order and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist a moment before pushing their mouths together. The kiss was wet and sticky as Harry's essence dripped and dribbled out between the two pairs of desperate lips. It seemed that since Harry lacked the use of his arms, he put something extra into the kiss, making sure that his tongue licked and traced over each and every corner of the blonde's mouth. By now, after the torture he had received by Harry's tongue, Draco was rock hard again and he pushed himself forward into his husband's hardening groin.

"Oh God, you're hard again."

"I need to be in order to fuck you stupid, baby."

"Aw fuck, don't talk to me like that. It hurts so much to be this hard."

"You're not even the one tied up," the emerald-eyed man said against red lips that seemed intent to suck and bite at his own. "How about you turn around and bend over for me?"

"Alright, but you have to beg me, remember?" Draco said, nuzzling his nose against Harry's sweaty sideburns as his hands traced up and down Harry's heaving chest. His tongue flicked out to taste a few salty drops and the brunet's eyes crossed as he moaned.

"Please, Draco. I need to be inside of you . . . Please, God . . . Jesus . . . Draco, please stop doing that with your tongue!"

The Slytherin pouted and removed his tongue from his lover's ear reluctantly. "Fine . . . Do you want me like this?"

Harry looked at Draco's new pose; the long, porcelain white back that led to the perfect behind that pressed back against him. Draco was smiling tauntingly back at him over his shoulder, but the smile soon slid off his face when Harry thrust himself forward. "Oh shit! Harry! Inside! Now!!"

"Hold yourself open for me, baby. I can't use my hands. I don't want to hurt you."

Harry watched with avid fascination as his lover pulled various pillows in front of himself and buried his face into the large pile he had made. His pale hands flew back quickly to cup the cheeks of his pale behind and he pulled them apart causing Harry's heart to jolt at the sight of the tiny pink hole. "Mfmmhmfmmhfmmf."

"What?"

A blonde head lifted up from the stack of pillows. "I said that I'm ready for you."

"Oh."

Harry thrust forward into his tight little lover, moaning so hard that the back of his throat hurt. His hips pistoned forward and he looked straight down at himself ravishing his husband's body. In and out. In and out. Out and in, until everything became too blurred to comprehend. Draco was before him, biting and screaming out his pleasure into countless pillows as he held himself open for Harry to see. Finally, his shaking hands fell soundlessly to the bed and his back arched, his head lifted from the pillows and his ear-splitting scream pierced through the room as he shot his load over a majority of the sheets. He growled and fell back into Harry, tightening himself around the man until all either of them could feel was heavenly pleasure.

Harry felt as if he was dying. As if he was being born and killed and reborn again. His hips were pushed back by Draco's enthusiastic movements, but soon they shot forward as he began to come inside his lover. He was coming so amazingly hard, the pleasure releasing from his body into Draco's, then sizzling back into him. Oh God, did it feel good to die this way!

Draco collapsed onto the bed as soon as he felt his husband's orgasm end and he curled into a tight ball.

"Draco?"

"Shut up, Harry. I'm reveling in aftershock. That was earth-shattering."

"Draco?"

"Shut up, Potter, and let me enjoy what you did to me," Draco snapped, rubbing his face into a pillow.

"Okay," Harry said. Everything was quiet for moment and then, "Draco?"

"What?" he snarled softly; not even bothering to open his eyes. _Why didn't Harry just shut up and revel?_

"Can you untie me, please?"

"Oh shit, Harry!" Draco started, jumping up and snatching his wand from the sheets. He waved it and Harry's tired arms fell down to his sides listlessly. Harry smiled at him and collapsed onto the bed. He flipped over and motioned for Draco to lie across him. The blonde straddled the other man and laid his head against the strong sweat dampened chest. "I'm sorry."

"S'alright," Harry sighed, as he wrapped his arms loosely around the blonde. Draco nuzzled his chest and inhaled deeply, taking in the after-sex smell.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Did I make love to you the right way this time?"

Harry forced open sleepy emerald eyes and stared into eyes he would bet his life on matched the color of angel's wings. "Everything you do to me is done in exactly in the most perfect way, baby."

Draco smiled into Harry's neck. The brunet kissed a blonde head and he closed his eyes.

"Let's go to sleep."

* * *

**Author's Note:** YAY, SMUT!! _**-DMH**_


	11. Silence

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** Jackass Harry; Panicky Draco; and . . . breasts?

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Seriously, if I told you guys that I was J.K. Rowling, who would believe me? Seriously? Raise your hands!

* * *

Chapter Eleven

The trip back to Hogwarts was uncomfortable.

And silent.

Perhaps it was uncomfortable because it was silent or perhaps it was silent because it was uncomfortable, but either way, Draco found it to be . . . awkward.

Their carriage was zooming through the air and once Harry's initial "Oh my fucking God, this is awesome!" reaction was over; he settled down into his side of the carriage and stared out the window to the green pastures of Ireland below them. His eyes, as emerald as the land, looked deeper than Draco had ever seen them, as if Harry was in deep, deep thought. They hadn't even looked that way when they had been making love.

Draco folded his hands together on his lap and looked down to his white knuckles. _Well, I guess that is over_, he thought, his mind wandering to their week of paradise; blissfully making love wherever and whenever the feeling overtook them.

But that was the honeymoon . . . and the honeymoon was now over.

It seemed as if they were back to business. Harry was no longer gazing at him the way he had during their wedding or their short week afterwards. In fact, he barely glanced at the other, but Draco felt that green gaze on him when he wasn't looking. They didn't even argue as they had before . . . the relationship was completely different.

That morning, they had decided on the name for their child, Evan for Harry's mother, Abraxas for Draco's grandfather, but they had yet to decide what the child's last name should be. Each man had kept their own name, so the children could not rightfully be called either Potter or Malfoy. Draco suggested Potter-Malfoy, but Harry preferred Malfoy-Potter, so they argued for a bit and opted to let their friends decide the better name when they got back to the school.

And then the awkwardness began.

Draco told himself not to cry. He had been crying off and on for the most idiotic reasons and decided that he would overcome the hormones and control his stupid emotions just like Malfoys were trained to do. Just because his husband was no longer talking to him, that didn't give him a reason for tears. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" the brunet grunted in response, his gaze still outside.

"Do you . . . Where are we staying when we get back to Hogwarts? I mean, obviously we can't stay in our separate dormitories and . . . um, raise a family."

Harry nodded and finally looked at the other man. Draco licked his lips nervously and looked down to his hands once more. "I know. I sent an owl to Dumbledore earlier this week. I got it back yesterday. He explained to me that there is an entire wing of the castle set up with dorms for young married couples. I think I recall Ron telling me that his parents lived there near the end of their seventh year. Does that sound alright?"

Draco nodded and Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the blond assured him. "I was just worried about that. That's all."

"Are you mad that I didn't tell you earlier?"

Draco shook his head and continued to keep his gaze trained to his lap. Harry didn't inquire anymore and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

As Harry assumed she would, Hermione swooned at how wonderful his and Draco's honeymoon had been, told him how much Ron had grudgingly missed him, and explained how furious Ginny appeared.

"She's just been slumping around all week. I would feel bad for her if she wasn't, you know, taking it out on Ronald and me."

"Is that what she's doing?" Harry asked, looking up from the trunk he was packing and frowning. "Why would she do that to you?"

"Well, she says that I'm on your side no matter what," the brunette replied, pushing her wavy hair over her shoulder and folding her legs under herself as she adjusted her position on Harry's bed. "Which is very untrue. I don't think what you did to her is fair, but she refuses to believe that I want to help her get through this. It had to be a tough time for her."

Harry winced at the thought that he hurt Ginny, but he pushed the feelings he had for the matter aside. "Ron's still pretty pissed at me, though."

"Well . . . yeah, but he's getting over it. You know, doing that thing he always does; making bad jokes."

"So where is he now?"

"I think he's at Quidditch practice. I think they had one scheduled today."

"Oh," Harry replied, trying to hide his surprise. Apparently he was missing out on a lot of things due to his marriage and his short week away. He wondered what the team thought of the family he was building with his rival.

"Well, I'm sure that you're still captain," Hermione told him as if reading his mind. "I mean, they surely can't play as good of a game without you and it's not like you have to leave for maternity issues like Malfoy does."

The glimmer of hope that appeared on Harry's face at Hermione's earlier words fell at that last statement. "He can't play Quidditch anymore, can he?"

"Aww, Harry! Don't be that way!" the brunette gasped before leaping off the bed and throwing herself in his arms. "I'm sure you'll make it up to him."

"But," Harry grumbled against the bosom she pressed against his face. "He can't play Quidditch because of me, he finds it hard to talk to his parents, he's ashamed of what we have together and how people look at him now, and all I can give him is sex. I've ruined his life."

* * *

"My life is ruined."

"What?" Pansy asked the blond as she fished through his room, throwing an occasional item into one of the five trunks situated around it.

"My life is ruined," Draco repeated as he lay back across his bed, stared up at the ceiling, and rubbed his stomach. "Harry doesn't want me anymore."

"What makes you say that?" the girl asked, her brow furrowed as she held up a pair of shoes. "These are ugly. Going in the trash pile."

He shrugged without looking at the shoes and continued his reasoning. "Because he won't even look at me."

"Maybe he's distracted," she suggested, throwing something else into the trash pile. "You know, I bet he's busy building his life so that it aligns with yours."

"Distracted?" Draco closed his eyes in though and tried to dwell on the life inside of him, warming the palm of his hand so gently. "Does he really have to build his life around mine?"

"Well, he is your husband and you are carrying his child and this is Potter we're talking about here – Ew, ugly. Trash pile! – so you know he feels responsible for you along with the entire world."

"Up until two weeks ago, I was less than the world to him," the blond said quietly as he sat up. Pansy sighed and put down the clothing she had in her hand to crawl into the bed next to her best friend. "Draco, you need to talk to him."

"Men don't talk."

"Yes, this is true. You all just eat and fuck and just see where that got you," Pansy countered, earning a halfhearted glower from the other. "You need to talk to him. Tell him what's on your mind. Tell him your feelings."

"I don't have feelings," Draco announced as he climbed from the bed. He shook the stray strands of silvery hair from his eyes and plopped down on the spot on the floor Pansy had previously abandoned. "But if I did, I'm sure they wouldn't be reciprocated."

"What makes you say that?" the brunette asked. "Everyone sees the way Harry looks at you."

"That's just his hero complex. He feels like he has to save me from destruction via the marriage and I'm sure he would do this to anyone else he was pushed into this predicament with."

"Draco, don't play like he's nice to you just because he feels responsible," Pansy snapped. "I think he feels greatly for you."

"He does not," Draco told her, his voice holding an eerie finality to it. "I asked him . . . I asked him if he felt any different about me after he found out about Evan as he did before and he said that he didn't. He didn't feel anything for me before and he doesn't feel anything now."

"Well, I still think it isn't fair to yourself to go about like this and not say anything to him." When she found herself ignored, she huffed heavily and got out of the bed to tower over the other. "You need to say something!" she insisted. "You're treating your feelings like they're some kind of secret that no one is supposed to know about!"

Draco glared up at her, not intimidated in the least. "Well, it's my secret to keep then, isn't it?"

* * *

Harry found his best friend hot, sweaty, fresh from an irritating practice, and coming off the field with a grimace that only deepened when he noticed the bespectacled brunet. The redhead gritted his teeth and stomped past the other, but as he did so, he gave a brief nod. Harry was surprised that Ron took the time to acknowledge him and followed the other into the locker room.

"How did practice go?" he asked as Ron and the other's shook off their Quidditch attire. A few members of the team frowned at him, but Ron was the only one to answer.

"It was alright," he said, pulling off his crimson robes and tossing them carelessly into a nearby locker. "But it seems people want to follow their own agendas and not listen to the assigned _Assistant Captain-_" 

He raised his voice a bit at those words for the other's to hear him clearly. "-because he has such close ties to the Captain."

Worry flickered across Harry's face for a moment. "What does that have to do with them not listening to you?"

Ron frowned and put down his bag to look his friend of seven years straight in the eye. "The team has lost respect for you because of what you did to Ginny and I find it hard to argue with them."

Harry was taken aback for a moment, but he had expected as much. "Well, the team can go fuck themselves then."

"What?" Dean Thomas snapped from the corner he was pretending not to listen to their conversation from.

"Go fuck yourselves," Harry said loudly and clearly enough for everyone to hear him. He turned to each member of the team with a look in his eye that screamed challenge, but softened it a bit when he reached the sad, brown eyes of the girl he hurt. "Obviously what I did was wrong and obviously it would cause a rift between me and you guys, but if that means the team is just going to go to shit, we should suck it up."

"Are you saying that I should just suck it up despite what you did?" Ginny hissed, tossing her pads down and stomping towards him.

"I'm telling you that you should ignore the feelings of the individual in you when you wear that uniform and be a fucking team player," Harry told her, hoping she didn't punch him again. "What I did had nothing to do with Quidditch, but if you continue to make it an issue during practices or games it shows what weak resolve you have and it proves that you shouldn't be on this team."

Ginny hauled back and smacked him in the face. Then she did it again. And again. "I hate you for what you did! How do you expect me to ignore that?!"

Harry stared at her sadly as she wrapped her arms around herself and began to sob. "I dunno, but . . . God, I'm going to sound like an even greater jerk for this, but you know you're going to get over it one day, right? I can't take anything back."

"You can at least say that you're sorry," she told him. He grimaced and stared at his feet for a moment. A lump formed in the back of his throat and he swallowed it down forcefully, ignoring how much it hurt.

"I am so sorry for what I did to you, Ginny. I cannot forgive myself for my actions and I almost can't believe that I was so careless with your emotions," he told her, the shame in his voice genuine.

"Go fuck yourself, Captain," she said softly, a small smile on her face. He smiled back wanly and she moved back to her locker, packed up the last of her things and left the room.

Harry turned to Ron to see the other man gaping at him. "What?"

"How the hell did you get her to forgive you with that piece of crap speech?"

The brunet shrugged. "I don't think she forgave me, but she just might turn the anger towards me to Quidditch during Quidditch time, now. Lemme guess, she still doesn't feint correctly, right?"

Ron smiled and shook his head. "You are such a jackass." Several other teammates nodded and Harry laughed out loud.

"You guys should be grateful," he chuckled. "I got the Captain and the Seeker of our rival team out of the way. He's on maternity leave because of me."

"Well, could you fuck half the Ravenclaw team, too?" someone asked before laughter erupted and a Quaffle came hurtling in his direction.

* * *

It was Sunday. He had classes the next day. He hadn't seen his husband since the morning. He hadn't gone to dinner for fear of people seeing him and talking about him. He hadn't gone in search for husband for that same reason. As soon as he and Pansy had packed all of his belongings, he had Crabbe and Goyle move the trunks to the Far East wing of the castle, on the lower floors, to his new room that was to be shared with Harry. It was large, larger than he had expected it to be and it consisted of four large rooms; a bedroom with a connected bathroom, a kitchen, and a sitting area. When he had arrived, he noticed a trunk already in the center of their bedroom and decided that he would spend the afternoon unpacking his own things until his husband came back to do the same. The afternoon turned to evening and though Draco was a bit hungry, he was more tired and he laid across his bed for a nap.

He was awake when Harry strolled into their new rooms. The man announced from the kitchen that he had brought food, but Draco didn't respond and merely continued to lie in his bed. He felt Harry presence in the room a moment afterward, though he couldn't hear the other.

"Draco?" he asked into the air softly. "Draco?" The blond still refused to respond even as the other climbed into the bed next to him. Harry shuffled around a bit next to him and a blanket was soon wrapped around him as well as a strong pair of arms. "Draco?" He didn't say a word, but Harry pushed him onto his back and he opened his eyes to see dark emeralds glittering back at him through the moonlit darkness of their bedroom. "Draco."

Harry traced a hand down his face. His finger followed the perfect curve of each white-blond brow. It followed the line of Draco's sharp, patrician nose. It sampled the softness of a slightly thin bottom lip and a pouty upper one and Harry leaned forward to capture both with his own. The brunet gave him gentle kisses, kisses he had dreamed of and enjoyed occasionally the week before. Those kisses deepened, but never lost their gentleness and as Draco was lost in them, he felt Harry's hand reach under his shirt to caress his stomach and a comforting warmth grew within him.

* * *

"Harry, wake up."

"Wha'?"

"Wake up."

"It can't be time for class yet," he muttered as he turned over and opened one green eye. "What time is it?"

"Almost four."

"Almost four?! Draco, go to sleep!"

"Harry, look."

The brunet sat up and looked at the other man sitting on the other end of the bed with a panicked look on his face. "What?" he yawned.

"I'm showing!" the blond cried as he lifted up his shirt and showed his husband his newly rounded belly.

"What?" Harry gasped, even as he stared down at the slightly blurry, but obviously distended stomach. He reached blindly to the nearest nightstand to grab his glasses and hurriedly put them on, almost gouging his eye out in the process of doing so. Once his vision was clear, he looked at his husband's stomach and reached out to touch it, but Draco flinched away. "Wow."

"Wow?" the Slytherin gasped back. "What do you mean 'wow'? I'm _fat_!"

"You are not fat! You're pregnant!" Harry yelled at him. "It's supposed to be beautiful!"

"What the bloody hell do you mean, beautiful?! I'm a freak of nature, that's what I am," Draco snarled back, tears starting in those crystal clear eyes. "I've only been pregnant for two weeks and now it looks like I'm housing a prize winning pumpkin!"

"Oh, shut up, Draco. I'm sure it's normal in – Is it normal in wizard pregnancies?" Harry suddenly asked as he quickly ran the situation over again in his mind.

"I dunno," Draco whispered, pressing his hand to his stomach before making a face. "I don't feel very well."

"Maybe you're hungry," Harry absently suggested as he continued to think about the things Hermione had told him concerning wizard pregnancy. "I brought some soup from dinner yesterday since you missed it. I think it's beef ste –" Draco suddenly covered his mouth and scrambled out of the bed and into the bathroom to toss his head into the toilet and heave up what little he ate the day before. Harry was by his side in seconds, holding his hair back, stroking a hand between his shoulder blades, and offering up sweet, whispered words of comfort as he was sick. Finally, he lifted his head and whimpered. He allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet and pushed in the direction of the sink by his husband. 

Together, they washed his mouth out and straightened his appearance enough so that was presentable in public, though they were just venturing out at four in the morning.

Draco's earlier sobs had now been replaced with silent tears that continuously streamed down each of his cheeks as he followed behind his husband like a lost puppy. He cursed himself and his stupid hormones for his embarrassing behavior in front of Harry, but the brunet had yet to say a word about his mood swings. Draco chuckled darkly at himself; of course Potter would stay as emotionally detached as possible . . . despite the hours of kisses that occurred not so long ago. Draco had to remember that he was not in a normal marriage, that he was in a cursed union, and he had to remember that so he could learn to stifle the tears.

Finally, they made it to the hospital wing and Harry held the door open for the other man, pausing just a moment to wipe a few tears of Draco's cheeks, but the blond just flinched away. He sighed and walked in after his husband. "I'm kinda scared to wake up Madam Pomfrey with this."

"Don't worry, Potter," the blond spat. "She's a medical witch; she's supposed to be available twenty-four hours of the day."

Harry stared at his husband for a moment as if searching for some way to respond to Draco's sudden anger, but he said nothing and walked ahead of the other to the witch's office. He knocked on the door a bit roughly and he hoped it didn't come off as impolite, but a few seconds later, the door swung open and the witch was looking them up and down with wide eyes. "What seems to be the problem?"

Draco pushed Harry out of the way and showed the woman the curve of his stomach. "Is this normal?!"

Her eyes widened a bit, but she soon developed a stern expression and gestured for the pair to follow her to a nearby examination table. "Sit down on this . . . the both of you." As they took their seats, she produced a stool from out of thin air, along with a table and a series of thick books, from just a wave of her wand. She sat on the stool, pointed her wand to her face so that glasses would appear, pointed the wand to a lantern so that the light flickered a bit brighter, and opened a book. She read quietly for a few moments and they stared at her . . . and stared and stared and stared. Then she looked up at them . . . and turned the page. They gaped.

"Excuse me, Madam," Harry interjected softly. "I think Draco's going through a mild panic attack."

Those last two words seemed to have caused an electric shock through the woman's body and she hopped up from her stool and was standing before the blond in an instant. "How do you feel, dear? Tell me what happened. Is your tummy still warm when you touch it?"

Draco shot a thankful look to his husband and nodded his head slightly. "I'm just confused. I just . . . I've recently been sick –"

"Morning sickness?" the witch asked.

He nodded. "Yes. It was right after I woke up and discovered that my . . . body had changed a bit. I think it frightened me and I . . . took it out on Harry a bit, but I don't believe it was a panic attack." He shot another look to his husband, this time apologetic and the man nodded and intertwined fingers with him. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes dear?" she asked as she picked up the book she had dropped on the floor.

"I'm only two weeks pregnant. I don't understand –"

"Why you look four months?" she finished and he nodded. "Well, I can't say I'm the expert on wizard pregnancies, but from what I know about the progression is that each case is different. Some pregnancies last months, some _years_, and I've even heard of one that occurred all in one day."

"Must have been a long day," Draco huffed. The nurse smiled at him and patted his knee.

"Perhaps I should have a talk with you two about how Draco's body will change?" she asked and the pair nodded. "Well, as you can see, the stomach becomes distended, but not because of the same reason a woman's stomach grows in pregnancy. Where a woman has the sexual organs able to sustain a life within her, a male does not, but in this case, your combined magic has constructed a physical womb of magic around your child. Had Harry been stroking your stomach awhile before you went to sleep?"

Draco blushed and nodded as he looked at his hand and Harry's and the witch smiled knowingly.

"Your combined magic will be needed to help the child grow and it will also be needed during the birth of the child where the baby will be lifted up and out of your magical womb."

"What?" Harry asked. "Will it be like a C-section?"

"A what, dear?" the witch asked, clearly puzzled at the muggle term.

"Um, well . . . when Muggle woman can't have their babies the normal way, the doctor cuts open their stomachs and –"

"Oh my God! No one's gutting me open like a fish, you prat!" Draco gasped, clapping protective hands over his stomach.

"I didn't mean to make it sound so gruesome!"

"How else can that be described? Huh? Cutting people open. We are not doing that!"

Madam Pomfrey patted each of their knees as a sign that they needed to calm down. "No worries, Mister Malfoy. I think I do believe hearing something of the sort, but there will be no need for such procedures. If you progress so that the birth occurs before term ends, I feel I am fully capable of handling it and if you happen to be outside of the school when it happens, there are Medi-witches and wizards trained for special cases like these. No need to worry."

"Alright," Draco sighed as he took Harry's hand again. "Will anything else happen to my body besides the stomach thing."

The nurse looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "For the first few months after the baby is born, you will have to feed the child with milk produced from your own body, so when the baby needs to feed, you will grow breasts so that is possible."

"That should be exciting," Harry said, his eyes wide.

"What?!" the blond gasped, clutching his chest this time. "I'm going to have breasts?!"

"Only when the child needs to be nursed," the woman assured him. "Otherwise, they will be nonexistent."

As Draco tried to come at peace with the news, he turned to his husband and noticed the look on his face. "Why are you looking like that?"

Harry raised both eyebrows and shrugged. "It doesn't sound so bad . . ."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man and turned back to the nurse. "Anything else?"

"You may decrease in height."

"What?" Draco gaped. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

Madam Pomfrey merely shrugged. "Studies have been made on this subject, but none can explain it. The 'mother' wizard is the one to become shorter, but this doesn't happen in all cases."

"Harry, get up," the blond insisted, pushing the other off the table and jumping off himself. He gripped the brunet's shoulders so that they stood face to face and turned to the witch with hopeful eyes.

"You look about the same height to me," she told them.

Draco's face erupted in horror. "I was taller than him!" he wailed. "Ugh, God! I'm shrinking!"

* * *

**Author's Note**: Draco's panic attacks are fun to write. You guys should try it. I think this chapter was informative, don't you? The stomachs, the breasts, the shrinking and all that. Haha. I thought it would be funny for Draco to have breasts and Harry to be intrigued, so I think I wrote that part for me instead of you guys, but I really have no idea what the shrinking has to do with being pregnant. I just suddenly wanted Draco to be short, I guess. LOL! Anywho, tell me what you think. Oh, and I have no idea when the next chap will be posted cuz I'm working in the dead of night with stolen internet again and my Dad's being all Darth Vader again and not letting me use the force, so I gotta keep the stealing on the minimum so not to get caught. And I haven't really had the time to respond to any reviews, so please forgive me. I appreciate them all and it's motivating to read them. Wow, this is a long author's note. I'm gonna shut up. _**-DMH**_


	12. Taboo

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** Panicky Harry; Encyclopedia Hermione; Tabooed Hogwarts; and Draco's hormones take it up a notch.

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** No money, no book deals, no movie deals, no Daniel Radcliffe . . . Harry Potter is obviously not mine.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"Come on, Draco."

"No!"

"Come on!"

"NO!"

"Draco!"

"I said I'm not coming out and that's final!" the blond sobbed through the bathroom door to his waiting husband. "Just go to class without me and leave me here to die!"

"I am not going to class without you," Harry told him as he tried the obviously spelled shut doorknob again. "Come on out, baby. It's not that bad."

"It is!" Draco whined, as insistent as he was hours ago. His sobs became a bit heavier and he gasped a few times before his next few words could be formed coherently. "I . . . I-I'm fat! . . . An-And . . . I'm . . . s-s-s-short! . . . And . . . And-And-And-"

"You'll have boobs," Harry reminded him.

"And I'll have boobs!" came the thunderous sob. The brunet hit his head against the door a few times and the crying subsided abruptly. "What was that?"

"My stupidity," Harry replied.

"Oh." After a silence of about two minutes, Harry actually started to believe the blond was getting better, but a few sniffles indicated that Draco had needed the time to reboot his tears. A few groans of frustration left Harry's throat and he knocked on the door lightly. "What?"

"Draco . . . Baby, what can I do to make you come out of there?"

Draco seemed to think about the question for a moment before he wailed, "You could blind the whole school from my short-breasted-obesity!"

"Oh my God!" Harry screamed out, turning from the bathroom door and running both hands roughly through his hair. He looked at the watch the Weasleys had given him last Christmas and he frowned; they only had an hour before class began. Harry was still in his pajamas and was badly in need of a shave, but seeing how Draco had locked himself in the bathroom for the last _three hours_, he was most likely going to class a scruffy, funky mess. "Fine, Draco! Be that way! I'm going to breakfast."

He shuffled through his trunk for a moment, yanking out a uniform and a wrinkled set of robes. He pulled them on quickly, threw his school bag over his shoulder, and marched out the dorm to the soundtrack of Draco screaming about never fitting into his clothing correctly ever again.

When he finally made it to the Great Hall and plopped down between his best friends, he was just in time for the mail. Several owls delivered the Daily Prophet to the Gryffindor table, but Harry ignored them when he noticed Hedwig sailing at him with a stack of letters, three of them scarlet red Howlers. "What the hell are these for?"

"They've been coming every day since you and Draco got married," Neville told him.

"So they're congratulations or something?" the brunet asked, picking a few letters up and holding them up to the light.

"Or something. Obviously not the Howlers," Ron said, stuffing a piece of bacon into his mouth as Hermione stared at him in distaste and lifted her newspaper until she was out of sight. The redhead laughed and turned to Harry. "By the way, where's your hubby-kins?"

"He locked himself in the bathroom," Harry said grimly as he flipped through a few of the letters, carelessly throwing the Howlers to the side. "There was an incident early this morning and now he won't come out because of it."

"What kind of incident?" Seamus asked, poking through a few of the letters himself.

"It involves breasts. I don't want to go into it."

Seamus' eyes widened and he looked down at the letter in his hand instead of questioning the statement. "Hey, check this out, Harry. This woman is offering to have your baby instead of Draco."

"I've got enough pregnancy issues as it is," Harry said. "I don't need to get anyone else pregnant when I can't even handle one pregnant guy."

"No wonder you look like hell, mate," Ron said, earning a tired smile from his friend.

"Oh my God," Hermione gasped out, dropping her newspaper on her glass and dousing the table in orange juice.

Ron stared at her with concern. "What happened?"

"Please tell me Voldemort came back from the death," Harry begged. "Anything would be better than this."

"Harry?" His bushy-haired friend turned to him with wide eyes. "When did you talk to Rita Skeeter?"

Harry's eyes went wide and he dropped the piece of toast going to his mouth with a soft clatter. "Holy sh--I forgot about that."

"Why would you say those things to that evil woman when you haven't even told Draco, yet?"

"I had to! Ginny locked me in a room with her before the wedding!"

"What?"

"I just couldn't . . . lie to her. I mean, what was I going to say? I knocked him up and now had to marry him?"

"That is kinda what you did!"

"Well . . . What I said was nicer, I suppose."

"Are you even ready for him to know?"

"Of course I'm not!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Ron snapped, reaching across Harry and snatching the paper from in front of Hermione. They both made a grab at it, but Ron yanked it away and stood so that it was out of their reach. He stared down at the Rita Skeeter article and his eyes widened a fraction with every line he read.

_Harry Potter: The Boy Who Loved_

_Harry Potter, 17, newlywed as of last week, personally gave this exclusive interview to famous Prophet reporter, Rita Skeeter, 28, moments before his infamous wedding to the only heir and son of the former Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. It is no secret that young Harry, the bearer of many, many hardships due to his mysterious relationship with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is seriously disturbed, so it is no surprise that, while still in his youth - such a rebelling time - he lashes out at the Wizarding world by making such wild moves as marrying the Malfoy heir. He asked politely that his motives for the marriage not be questioned, but this reporter suspected the true reason and it starts with _**B**_ and ends with waking cries at four o'clock in the morning. When questioned about the child he and his husband are to have, Harry denies very adamantly that the baby was the reason for marriage. As this reporter dived deeper into the dark mind of the Wizarding world's number one drama maker, more secrets to the relationship were revealed. Apparently, Harry's father-in-law, the former Death Eater, has used the ancient marriage _Union of Matri_ to bond the two young men, even though the spell will soon be forbidden as a dark curse because of the usual deaths it incites. When questioned on his actions, Lucius Malfoy gave this __statement: "Get the hell away from me, you bloody wretch. I can do as I bloody well please!" to which his wife scolded him, told this reporter that he had yet to take his daily potions, and replied politely for her husband instead, "No comment." When asked if the bond was the true reason for the marriage, Harry shook his head. "That was merely a technicality." A technicality, he says? Well then, what of his long time girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley? Did he view his relationship with this extraordinary young woman in such a way? The young, beautiful, talented redhead gave this sweet statement: "I only hope the best for him and his husband," before promptly bursting into tears before this reporter's very eyes. What does Harry say to this? "I hate her for this and I hope she chokes on the bitterness in the back of her throat like the vindictive shrew she is." Harsh words from the Chosen One. However, he quickly denied that problems with his (Now?) ex-girlfriend were the reason for his sudden marriage to a boy that had not only had been his rival, but also the son of a man who had followed the horrific He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? "I dunno . . . I just love him," Harry says simply and that is just enough for this reporter._

Ron's eyes were as big as their breakfast plates by the time he had finished the article and he dropped back into his seat with a _thud_. His friends stared at him for a moment in silence until he shrugged and said, "Well, at least Draco is locked in the bathroom."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly, the three Howlers decided to combust all at once and various indistinguishable shouts filled the Great Hall, one obviously a man, another a woman with a rather squeaky voice, and the last . . . Mrs. Weasley?

"HOW COULD YOU MARRY THE SON OF A DEATH EATER?! A WORSHIPPER OF THE WORST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO-"

"-COULDA BEEN TOGETHER, HARRY! HOW COULD YOU MARRY THAT-"

"-DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, CALLING MY DAUGHTER A VINDICTIVE SHREW!!"

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for the enchanted ceiling would shoot him with a bolt of lightning – anything really – but, alas, nothing happened but a break out of whispers through the Great Hall.

* * *

"Harry, it's not so bad." The brunet lifted his head from his knees and stared in horror at his best friend. Hermione winced and patted the top of his head. "Okay, so it's sorta bad, but it'll be alright, I'm sure."

"No it's not," Harry groaned as he lowered his face back down to his knees. "Kill me."

"Stop being so dramatic," Ron yawned as he leaned beside the door leading to their Potions class. He looked down at the top of Harry's hyperventilating head and shook his own. "Get up, mate. Slytherins are staring at you."

"Hey Potter," Pansy said as if on cue, stepping up to the trio with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. "Where's Draco?"

"He's locked in a bathroom," Ron told her, only earning a glare from the girl before she realized what he said and exploded.

"YOU LOCKED HIM IN A BATHROOM?!"

"He locked himself in the bathroom," Ron said. "Something about breasts."

"He's freaking out because his body is changing with pregnancy," Harry said shakily as he stood. He turned to Hermione. "And if he finds out about this, he's never leaving that fucking bathroom."

"I'm sure everyone is riveted with the happenings of the Potter family," a voice drawled behind Ron. Every student turned to face their dark Potions Master. "However, as it seems my class is due to start at any moment, I suggest you save the idiocy for after."

Snape turned and whisked into the classrooms, earning glares from even students from his own house, but they all filed into the room silently. Harry sat down and before Ron or Pansy could rush into the single seat beside him, Hermione push the pair out of the way and sat. She received a few Snape-worthy glares, but ignored them as Ron sat at the table directly in front of them and Pansy insinuated herself beside him. Emerald eyes rolled as he watched the fools.

This was going to be a long Potions class.

* * *

Draco finally managed to stop his disgusting tears, but he still sat pressed against the bathroom door on the floor. He believed he was in shock, but not from his panic attack. Instead, his thoughts – as well as his last thirty minutes of crying – dwelled on the fact that that bloody Gryffindor actually left him. Given, he had insisted the man to do so, but seriously, where did Harry get off doing such a thing? He spent no more than ten minutes dwelling on the subject until he decided another ten minutes of bitter dwell time would not hurt, then he stood and left the room, not even bothering to see what a mess he was in the mirror.

It seemed that he would not be going to class, seeing as the only man who could encourage him out in the state he was in was already gone, but he heaved a sigh of relief. He did not think he could put up with the whispers he knew were circulating through the halls of the school, He could not deal with the stares. He patted his stomach as he sat on the edge of his bed. He loved his baby with all his heart, but . . . The shame was almost overwhelming in him. There were newspaper articles questioning his families pride in him, for God's sake! He knew there was no way his family was fully accepting of this situation. They had never intended him to marry a man, nor one that was so obviously a blood traitor. He closed his eyes and could only see his mother's face and the disappointment and sadness there. He hurt her, he knew it, and he was shocked at himself, not for the betrayal, but for thinking if he had the chance to do it all over again, he would.

In a heartbeat.

He smiled, opened his eyes, and rubbed a hand up and down his stomach, his smile widening at the life he felt pulsing within. He took a deep breath and shook every bad thought out of his head, then grimaced at how horrible his hair looked when it fell into his face. A bubble bath was in order.

He did not recall packing or unpacking bubble potion from his trunk, but he did believe Harry might still have some left over from their honeymoon. He hummed quietly to himself as he settled on the floor in front of Harry's trunk. He frowned that half the stuff was scrambled and left half hanging from it in Harry' hasty rummaging and exit of earlier, but he decided he would help straighten it out in apology for his actions. He used his wand to levitate the clothing to the bed to be placed in drawers and closets later and he was surprised at the amount of junk the other teen had accumulated at the bottom of the trunk. Old joke and prank items, a few that were trademark Weasley, an assortment of books and papers, and several leather pouches of what Draco assumed to be money, and a small wooden box that looked to hold something special and private within.

So, of course, Draco reached in and pulled out the box. He positioned it in what lap he had left and opened it, blushing immediately at the first thing he spotted; a picture he had taken of himself, animated with development potion, laying across his bed in Malfoy Manor, naked and doing naughty, naughty things with a licorice wand. "Oh my. Why does he still have this?" He shuffled through a half dozen other photos, each dirtier than the last until he came upon one he did not quite remember taking. It was a bit frayed at the edges, unlike the other photos, as if Harry had spent a much longer time looking at this particular picture. Draco watched himself stare out – presumably at the camera – shyly before looking down, then lifting his head up as he bit his lip nervously, and finally he kissed the camera. The picture reset and Draco watched himself give the chaste kiss over and over again, while wondering why Harry found the need to stare at this one as much as he had. He blushed when he thought of the kisses of the night before and placed a hand on his stomach.

He continued to shuffle through the box, chuckling at a few of the letters he had written to Harry and the vivid way he had with words. He was ready to close the box once more when his fingers fell across a small dark blue journal. It looked to be nothing more than an address book or something to make hasty memos on, but he was overpowered by the need to open it. He flipped it open and his eyes widened . . . Potter wrote poetry . . .

Some of it was written in almost angry strokes of the quill, as if the words were spilling out of Harry's mind faster than he could write them. The first few pages were filled with angered words of family and death, of hopelessness and the darkness it was associated with. A few of the poems scared Draco to say the least and he flipped back to the front of the book to see a printed date. This journal had been filled the summer before their sixth year . . . The summer after Harry's godfather's death.

Draco tuned the pages back to where he was and he continued to read, his eyes filling with tears at the rage that turned to sadness, which quickly eased into depression. He wiped his eyes and turned the page, noticing the date of the poem to be the date of when he started exchanging letters with Harry. This poem made him blush. A few of the phrases from the letters written from his own hand had been reused by Harry's and expanded and he was glad no one was there to see him because he was sure his entire body had flushed red. The next few pages were filled with nothing but these short, hot poems and Draco moved to lean back against his bed as he caught his breath. He turned to the last page of the journal and his eyes widened as he noticed the date; just a few weeks ago. He read the words and his body seemed confused as to whether to go rigid with shock or simply melt into the carpet at the sweetness of the words.

_A brush of skin and I melt.  
Somehow, before, I think I envisioned you to be cool.  
After all your flesh does look as if it's made of carved marble,  
So I think it is natural to think it would be cold to the touch.  
It's not.  
In fact it's warm, almost hot.  
Like living sunlight.  
I want to ask you why you're so warm all the time,  
Why it is your eyes are so expressive,  
(Even when you think you have them under control . . .)  
And why your hair must be made of silk._

_I want to ask you a lot of things . . .  
Why your jaw fits so perfectly in my hands when I kiss you.  
Why your lips seemed to meld with mine like some single entity.  
And most of all why your skin is so fucking warm._

_I want to hold you close to me and see if I can become as warm as you are.  
I think the first time I realized how warm you were, I thought you were ill,  
I even think asked if you were feeling unwell.  
You sneered and told me I was an idiot.  
That was the end of that conversation._

_Still though . . .  
I wonder . . .  
Not only are you warm, no, you're like silk.  
Your skin is warm and like satin.  
And you have this mind blowing scent,  
Like . . .  
Like . . .  
The smell of winter.  
That biting earthy tone somehow underlined with a new beginning._

_You taste like cinnamon and vanilla.  
And you move like water,  
Or smoke.  
Or something as equally as graceful._

_But it's your skin that seems to just boggle my mind to no extent.  
So warm . . .  
So very, very warm . . ._

_A brush of skin and I melt._

"Oh God, Evan," Draco told his stomach as he ran the tips of his fingers across it. "Your Daddy's amazing."

* * *

"Hermione, kill me," Harry whispered for the fourth or fifth time since class began. Hermione shook her head and merely continued to add ingredients to their potion.

"I'll kill you, Potter," Pansy volunteered sweetly.

"Thanks, Parkinson," Harry replied.

"No problem," the brunette said, turning completely around in her seat and ignoring Ron's pleas to help with their potion. "I just want you to know that lying like that to a newspaper makes you the greatest jerk on the planet and once Draco finds out about this, he'll leave you."

"I may be the greatest jerk on the planet, Parkinson," Harry sneered. "But he can't leave me. Did you forget about our bond already?" He held up his wrists and it flashed white and black simultaneously.

"Actually," Hermione cut in. "Once he has your heir, he really can leave you."

Pansy sneered back at him and stuck her tongue out for good measure before turning around and letting Ron have it for turning their potion incorrectly purple.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said grimly.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I . . . I'm really worried about you . . . and Draco. Maybe you should talk to him before our next class. I'm sure he's ready to speak with you now and I know you don't want him to find all this out before you get the chance to tell him."

"Or maybe he just doesn't need to find this out at all," Harry said, lifting his head from the desk.

"What?"Hermione said, tossing an ingredient carelessly into the cauldron, then hastily checking that it was still turquoise. "What? You just can't erase what you said from every paper and stop people from talking about it."

"Well, you're right about the paper," Harry said as he began to rummage through his bag for a scrap of parchment and a quill. "Luckily, Draco hasn't been reading the papers lately. He doesn't like the articles about us, but I think I know a way to stop the people from talking."

"How?" his friend asked as he triumphantly pulled out the parchment.

"A Taboo," Harry replied.

"Harry! You can't do that!"

"He can't do what?" asked Ron and Pansy together as they turned from their potion to face the other two. They grimace at their unity, but looked to Hermione for an answer.

"Harry wants to cast a Taboo," the bushy-haired brunette whispered fiercely to the others.

"That's illegal," Ron said; his expression completely scandalized while Pansy's held one of intrigue.

"Do it," she urged.

Harry smiled at her and began to write phrases on the parchment that he did not want Draco to hear. He was sure by the time Draco ventured from his room, several people would suffer from the jinx he was attaching to the Taboo that all of Hogwarts would learn not to say anything of it or suffer the consequences.

"Harry, you can't do this!" Hermione hissed as Snape swooped by their table and Pansy and Ron had to lurch back to theirs before turning around again.

"Yes I can," he told her, folding the paper and raising his wand to it. "_Tabseo_." And nothing happened. "What's wrong with it?" He stared at Hermione, but she refused to answer.

"You need blood for it," Pansy provided, despite the glares she got.

"Thanks," he said, pricking his finger with the tip of his quill and pressing it to the paper. "_Tabseo_." And still nothing.

"Virgin blood," the Slytherin girl told him, earning his glare this time.

"Would have been nice if you told me before." She shrugged and he turned to his friends. "So I'm out. What about you guys? . . . Well?" Ron and Hermione both blushed bright red and somehow managed not to look at one another. "Okay," Harry said, his gaze drifting to Pansy.

"Seriously, Potter?"

"I guess not, then." He looked around the classroom until a smile spread across his face. "Oi! Neville! C'mere!"

The slightly pudgy boy came over quickly, relieved to get away from his potion and Blaise Zabini. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Can you check and see if my quill is sharp enough. I'm not too sure about it," Harry said.

"Sure," the other boy said, taking the quill and staring at it. He pressed the tip of his finger to it and dropped it with a gasp. "Ouch! I pricked myself!"

"Oh, let me see!" Harry said in a false tone of concern. He snatched his friend's hand and pressed the bleeding digit to his parchment. The other teen stared at him as if he was crazy, but all he said was, "Thanks, Nev. _Tabseo_." And the room went pitch black for a moment before lighting up at it lightning struck several times. After a few screams of the other students and a grumble from Hermione about ethics, the lights flashed back on for good and Harry sat with his arms crossed in triumph and a smile on his face.

"What the hell was that?" Professor Snape barked, his head snapping back and forth to see who was responsible. No one looked overtly suspicious, so he turned to his fallback. "Potter!"

Harry shrugged with a smile and tucked his tabooed parchment away.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did you like it? It was fun to write for me, so I'm guessing it was fun to read too? Please tell me what you think. _**–DMH**_

p.s. That beautiful poem of Harry's was written none other than by the fantastiful (she's so amazing, I have to make up words) WiseDraco! Thanks for the poem! Love you, Wheezy!


	13. Mmmhmm

No One's Secret To Keep

* * *

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** Lovey-Dovey D and H; Unsure Pansy; Sexually frustrated Ron.

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** This story has gone waaay beyond the limits of PG-13 movies. I doubt anybody but I would take credit for it even though I'm just borrowing characters.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Best bubble bath ever . . . ever!

Draco sank down into the water just low enough that nothing under his nose was exposed. He was thoroughly pleased with himself and grateful for the idea to charm the small basin a wider and deeper size. Best idea ever. He chuckled deep in his throat, the action showing itself through a few stray bubbles beneath his nose and focused on the water's warmth rather than the dramatic rollercoaster that was his hormones. He leaned his head back into the water to wet his hair and allowed the bubbles – a gift from Pansy – to magically scrub his hair and body clean. Best bubbles . . . ever.

Just as he was to let himself drift to sleep – the bubbles prevented drowning as well – erratic knocks assaulted his senses. He bolted up in surprise and cursed at the amount of water that splashed in his face. He growled when he realized the sound was coming from the front door and carefully climbed from the tub. He wrapped himself in a large fluffy towel, also courtesy of Pansy – best friend ever – and marched to his bedroom for his robe. He pulled it on and stomped to the front of his and Harry's rooms to open then slam the door in the face of whoever disturbed his bath. He opened the door and gaped at the best friend he had so recently mentally praised. "What?"

"Well, hello to you, too," the brunette snapped, trying to push her way in, but Draco's new stomach stopping her. She stared at her barrier in wonder. "Whoa. Where did that come from?"

"Oh, shut up," he snapped, moving back so she could walk in.

"It was just yesterday that I saw you, right? Not last winter?"

"What do you want? I was taking a bubble bath!"

"Geez, you're such a girl," Pansy laughed, sitting on his small couch and gesturing for him to join her. He huffed out a sigh and joined her. "I have something to tell you?"

"Is it about Theodore?"

"Naw, he's old news. I'm actually interested in someone else," she replied. He arched his brows in question, but she just blushed and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. That's not what I came to tell you."

"Well then, what?" She reached in her school bag and pulled out a newspaper. He automatically cringed. "You know I don't want to read that rubbish they write about me and Harry."

"Oh, you wanna read this rubbish," Pansy insisted. "Harry Tabooed the entire school just so you wouldn't read it. The idiot didn't even look at me twice as if I wouldn't instantaneously tell you."

"Well, you've done well, my minion," he chuckled, reaching for the paper and frowning that he had to read from the works of Rita Skeeter. He read silently, but his mouth occasionally mouthed a few of the words – he said "vindictive shrew" out loud and with laughter – but when he reached the last few sentences he gasped and his eyes went wide. "I knew it."

Pansy ignored his whispered words as she picked up the paper to glare at the article. "I just can't believe he lied to the entire Wizarding world about something like this. Did he even think twice about you? What a jer – where are you going?" she asked as the blond stood and rushed from the room.

"Wait!" he told her as he shuffled through his bedroom. He came back with a small wooden box and pulled out Harry's poetry diary. He flipped to the last page and shoved it eagerly under Pansy's nose.

She read the poem slowly before gasping in surprise herself. "So he _was_ telling the truth! I just thought with him stringing you along with that damn Weasley girl –"

"Do you know what this means, Pans!" Draco exclaimed, bouncing up and down in his seat in his giddiness. "It means that Harry lo –"

"Don't say it!" Pansy snapped, slapping her hand over the blond's mouth. Draco angrily shoved her away.

"What the hell?!"

"Potter Tabooed it!"

"Tabooed what?"

"That he mmmhmms you," she said.

"Mmmhmms me, Pansy?"

"Yes. Mmmhmms you, you idiot," she deadpanned, pointed at the article.

"Oh! Love!"

"Yeah, dumbass."

"So he Tabooed it? Why?"

"I thought that he didn't want you to hear the lie and get your hopes up, but now I guess he wants to tell you before anyone else does."

"Thanks for ruining that."

"No problem. It's what I do best."

Draco ran his fingers through his wet hair and smiled. "Well, that's great because I'm ready to tell him. I'm planning for tonight."

"Well, he can't tell you back. It's Tabooed, remember?"

"Damn . . . Where the hell did he find a virgin?"

"It was that damn Longbottom."

"Well, shit. You just have to get him to release the Taboo."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know. Just do it!"

"Fine," she said, her eyes narrow. She stood and reached for her newspaper, but Draco laid a hand over hers.

"Can I keep it?"

* * *

"I like when you whimper like that."

"Do you? Do it again then."

Ron chuckled as he nuzzled brown sugar curls with his nose and flicked his tongue out to tease the sweet skin of his girlfriend's neck. Hermione whimpered those pretty whimpers once more and Harry walked into the room.

"Oi, Ron! Where are you?"

"What?" the redhead snapped, sticking his head out of his four poster curtains with a fierce scowl.

"Oh, I didn't know you were busy," Harry said, eyeing the other with a smirk. "Tell 'Mione I said hello."

He received a pillow to the face at that comment and backed out of his former dormitory with a laugh. Well, there went his ideas of both practicing Quidditch and studying and all in one shot. He sighed and started down the steps, then froze when he noticed a certain redhead in the Common Room. He grimaced and silently trucked past her and her glaring friends. He was grateful that no one said anything 

to him on his way out, but that did not stop the extreme guilt that came with the venomous stares he was getting.

He decided to walk around the grounds a bit. Maybe even mope under a tree as he stared blankly out at the dark lake. Pleased with his choice of a pastime, he started down a series of stairs that moved as soon as he set foot on them. He frowned that they detoured his trip a bit and the frown increased when he found towards who he had been detoured.

"Just the puddy-cat I was looking for."

"Parkinson."

"Potter," Pansy greeted just as enthusiastically as he walked straight past her. She turned automatically on her heel and strode up to walk his pace. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"The Taboo."

"I thought you were all for the Taboo."

"Well, now I'm not."

"Why not?"

She gasped theatrically and placed a hand on her chest. "Is it not a woman's way to change her mind?"

"Not when said woman is also a calculating snake," Harry said, holding a door open for the girl. "What do you want?"

"Thank you. I don't want anything," she insisted, but sighed when he glared. "Fine. I think you should release it."

"Why?"

"Because I know that you actually Mmmhmm him now."

"Mmmhmm him? What?"

"Oh, shut up. You freakin' Tabooed the damn phrase! You know what I'm talking about! I just don't want to end up in the hospital wing with all the other of your victims."

"Whatever, Parkinson. Just tell me where this change of heart came from," he demanded as they crossed the courtyard and moved to the lake.

"I talked to Draco and he showed me a poem you wrote."

"A poem I –" The Gryffindor stopped walking abruptly and gaped at her. "You didn't show him the article, did you?"

"I'm his best friend and a Slytherin and you actually trusted me not to?" she asked in an unbelieving tone.

He pondered the question for a moment before finally shrugging. "I guess you're right."

She nodded and smiled as they presumed walking. "Now all there's left to do is for you to release the Taboo. It's kind of pointless now."

"Yeah," he agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bit of parchment. Pansy recognized it as the curse and smiled reassuringly at her best friend's husband. He rustled around through his pocket for a quill and some ink, but found the items thrust into his face by the Slytherin girl's ready hands. "Thanks."

They sat under the tree Harry had been hoping to mope under and crossed out the phrases he had Tabooed. He pulled out his wand to burn the parchment, but Pansy reminded him about the blood. "Oh, right." He looked around for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "Oi, Neville!"

The Gryffindor looked away from the person he had been talking to and stared at Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson running towards him. "Hey Harry . . . Um, Pansy. What's going on?"

"I have a cool Muggle magic trick to show you," Harry exclaimed. "It's amazing what these Muggles can do with no actual magic."

"Really? Let's see," the other teen suggested eagerly. Pansy rolled her eyes as Harry crouched down to where Neville was sitting.

"Hold out your hand," Harry told him and poor, naïve Neville did it, earning a prick of the quill on the finger right next to his already bandaged one.

"Ouch, that hurt!"

"Sorry, Nev," Harry said absently as he pressed the blood tipped quill to the parchment.

"You so should have been in Slytherin," Pansy said, earning a Draco like smirk from the famous Gryffindor. They stared at the parchment for a moment as Neville sniffled and sucked his finger. "Nothing is happening."

"I know. The blood must not be working, but it's virg – Neville! You're not a – How is that possible when you were just one four hours ago?!" Harry asked, earning a chuckle from the person Neville was sitting beside. Harry and Pansy seemed to just notice Blaise Zabini and the black boy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh God, Blaise! Did not need to know that!" Pansy snarled as Neville went redder than anyone had seen him before.

"I suggest you find another virgin, then, Potter," Blaise laughed, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to Neville who took it. Harry and Pansy watched as the pair walked away.

"Well, where the hell am I suppose to find a freaking virgin? Hermione already banned me from using the lower classmen," the green eyed brunet huffed.

"I suggest you try Hufflepuffs," the chocolate eyed brunette said. "It can't be that hard to find a seventh year virgin, right?"

* * *

Harry could not believe that he had found not one seventh year virgin after two hours of searching.

Pansy had helped him out some, but when questioning a Hufflepuff's virginity during the first half hour of the search, the boy propositioned her and Harry had yet to see her again, even when he went to dinner to grab Draco a plate of food. Some students greeted him with a joke on what they had dubbed the Great Virgin Search and others asked politely after Draco to which he answered with laughter or "He's fine" even when he really didn't know.

He felt like a total jerk for leaving his husband alone all day as he stood outside his and Draco's rooms for fifteen minutes contemplating how to make it up to the man. Finally, deciding that Draco would not appreciate cold food, he found his courage and said the password to swing the door open. He walked into the dark dormitory and frowned.

When the hell had they gotten all these damn candles?

He went to the kitchen to set the food down and just as he opened his mouth to question the darkness, a sultry voice whispered right into his ear, "I've been waiting for you all day, my husband."

A shiver ran down his spine as a rounded stomach pressed against it and long arms wrapped around his waist.

"Feeling better?" he asked as hands lifted to undo his robes and reach inside them. A low, almost dark chuckle answered him and he felt a head settle on his shoulder. "I'm guessing you missed me?"

"I _need_ you," the other answered, nuzzling into the side of Harry's neck. "Be with me."

"Yes sir," the brunet replied with a barely concealed moan when talented fingers found their way under his shirt. He pulled away slightly and allowed his robes to fall to the ground around his feet. Impatient hands tugged his shirt off over his head and an even more impatient mouth found his own. He groaned against those familiar lips and wrapped his arms around his husband's waist as tight as the stomach between them allowed it. "Maybe we should leave the kitchen."

Draco moaned into the kiss and push Harry into a counter in response. The Gryffindor arched his hips forward and growled when Draco's stomach barred him from his goal.

"Baby . . . Let me . . . Let's at least get to the couch so I can feel you against me." The blond allowed himself to be dragged out of the kitchen and into the candlelit living room area, all the while basking in the sweet kisses he was receiving. He fell onto the couch – on top of Harry – and the kiss they shared rocked his body, made him moan and ache to curl up in this moment only to relive it over and over again. Harry's tongue enthusiastically traced his lips, pressing against the moist line of them occasionally, but never forcing entrance. Finally, the brunet pulled away, much to his husband's dismay, but cupped Draco's cheek with one shaking hand. Emerald eyes glittered with the flickering lights reflected in them as they danced across the blond's features. Draco's face was flushed, his lips red and pouty, obviously thoroughly tasted already, but Harry's insistent thumb decided to trace the plump temptations. First, the lower one suffered through the teasing, then the upper lip, more full and without a doubt the reason Harry was so obsessed with this mouth. Those lips parted in a pleasured gasp and the thumb slipped inside to be tasted. The blond's eyes closed in appreciation as he sucked in a bit of his husband's taste before slowly releasing it from his mouth with a dreamy smile. He opened his eyes to see Harry's own fixated on his mouth and he leaned forward for an easier capture. The brunet took his lips gratefully and, in further gratitude, slipped his tongue into the other's mouth.

Draco groaned appreciatively and ground his hips down, inciting a moan in his husband's throat. "Maybe we should . . . go to the bedroom."

"Maybe," Harry said, pulling himself away from beneath the blond. He pushed Draco back until he was pressed upright against the back of the couch, then kneeled before the man between his legs. "Or maybe you should wait for me to please you."

Warm, mercury eyes scanned the Gryffindor up and down, widening fractionally when the man tugged the stretched waist of his pants. "You mean pleasing with your mouth, right?"

"Of course," Harry laughed, reaching in Draco's trousers and pulling out his rigid length.

"Isn't your forehead going to hit my stomach when you do that?" Draco deadpanned until his husband's fingers wiggled under his shirt and ruined his composure.

"Lean back and I'll turn my head sideways as I suck you," the tickling man suggested. Warm mercury turned molten.

"Say that again."

"Say what?"

"You know."

The brunet smiled and rubbed his cheek against Draco's swollen stomach. "I'm going to suck you . . . You like that?"

"Again," the blond murmured as his pants were pulled completely off.

"I'm going to suck you . . . Pull you into my mouth . . . and give you long, long licks . . ."

"Oh, Harry, do it."

"Kiss every inch of you . . . cover you with the heat and wetness of my mouth . . . and suck you."

"Mmm," the teen moaned. "Do that . . ." Harry did and Draco found himself melting into the couch cushions until his husband pulled away and he was being helped to his feet. "Bedroom?"

Harry chuckled at the hopeful question and nodded. He led the half naked blond to the bedroom and once the man was seated safely on the bed, he pulled down his trousers and underwear. Draco reached out to touch him and he accepted the strokes of his eager flesh with gratefully moans and hisses of pleasure until finally he could not take it anymore and moved to pull off Draco's shirt. The Slytherin's hands were instantly off the Gryffindor's body and were now tugging at the edge of the large shirt, careful to keep it over the swollen stomach underneath. "Draco?"

"Can I just keep the shirt on?"

"Why?" Harry asked. "You don't want me to see?" His eyes widened when the blond sadly nodded. "I've seen you before."

Draco went bright red and looked away. "But not like . . . with my stomach . . . I have . . . there are marks."

"Oh," Harry said, crouching on the bed beside his husband and pulling the man into his arms. Did Draco seriously think he care about a silly thing like that? By the way he was trembling, he must have. "Baby, I want to see all of you . . . You were already so beautiful and with you doing a beautiful thing like carrying my child . . . It makes you a hundred times more beautiful, don't you think?"

"Really?"

"Yeah . . . Malfoy, you're scaring me. Where has all you conceit gone?" he joked, earning a jab in the ribs. Then, as if to prove the ego was still there, the blond pulled his shirt over his head and lay back so that his pale skin glimmered like champagne in the warm, golden glow of the candles floating around the room. "There it is, sexy."

Draco laughed as the other man lay next to him and began to trace big hands up and down his body. One had in particular was playing with his chest and happened to touch an aroused nub and sent a wild pulse through his body to his groin. "Ah!"

Harry pulled away at the sound and leaned up on one elbow to look down on Draco and his chest. "Did I hurt you? Uh . . . I hear that pregnant w –" Silver eyes narrowed. "Pregnant people get really sensitive there." One of his fingers wiggled over the other's hard nipple. "And it hurts."

"It did not hurt," Draco assured him. "But it was very, very sensitive."

Harry's smile was wicked as he bent forward and teased the sensitive area with his mouth. The blond gasped as his hands came up to capture dark hair in fists in order to guide the head to his other nipple. His hips thrust up automatically to meet thin air and he growled in frustration. "Harry, now."

"Now?"

"Now," he repeated, trying to roll over or sit up, but finding his stomach prohibiting every move he made. "A little help, Harry, and then now."

"Alright," the brunet laughed, lifting his lover into a sitting position. "Um . . . how are we going to do this?" Draco's gaze followed his husband's to his stomach. "How about on your back?"

"I don't think that's going to work. For one, you always lift my legs up really high when you do that and, for two, I don't think my back can take it," he admitted and Harry cursed.

"How about you ride me?" the brunet pondered, his eyes hopeful.

"You tend to wrap your arms around me when I do that and I have way too much stomach. And plus, I don't feel like doing all the work, my thighs hurt already just thinking about it."

"Well, damn . . . How about doggy-style?"

Draco frowned at the vulgar language and Harry smiled apologetically at him. "I can't put pressure on my stomach."

"We'll stack pillows under your chest to hold you up. And you can hold the headboard . . . and I'll hold you!" the resourceful Gryffindor suggested. Draco mulled it over in his mind while rubbing his stomach, then looked down at his husband's yummy erection and smiled.

"Let's do that."

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was coming with one hand locked in a vice grip clinging on the headboard as the other was holding the stack of pillows to his chest, Harry was relentlessly pounding into him, one hand gently tugging blond hair on top of his head as the other was gently tugging blond hair between his legs and both men were crying out words neither one of them could decipher into the hot, sex-musked air. As Draco cried out his release, strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him up until he was kneeling in the middle of his bed. Harry continued his rough strokes just like that until the very end when he reared back, catching himself on one hand, and thrust into his orgasm. Draco groaned at the feeling of warmth pumping into him and filling him as Harry breathed harshly into his ear and after a moment, he broke out into a fit of giggles.

"I made you giddy?" Harry asked as he pushed them up and pulled them down again so that they were spooned together in a pile of pillows, sweat, and other bodily fluids. Draco continued to laugh, but the laughter died into a whimper when his husband slipped out of him. "Mmm."

"I concur . . . Mmm . . ." the blond yawned, adjusting Harry's arm so that his large tan hand covered Draco's more slender, pale one on his stomach. "Did I tell you Evan kicked today?"

"No, you were too busy mauling me at the door," Harry said. "So was it strong?"

"So strong. He must think he's part giant or something." Harry chuckled and nuzzled the delectable neck before him. "Harry?" Draco asked as the man's tongue caused shivers.

"Hmm?"

"I love you," Draco said, turning slightly so that mercury eyes could look into wide emerald ones. Harry stiffened. After a few seconds of silence, Draco tried again. "Harry, I just said that I love you."

"I know," Harry whispered back. "But I just can't say it back."

Silver eyes grew big and watery as the blond rolled onto his back to look the other man squarely in the face. "You can't . . . You don't l –" Harry interrupted his words with a hand over his mouth and those watery crystal eyes narrowed and hardened into diamonds. Draco jerked the hand away from his mouth. "You didn't get rid of the Taboo, did you?"

Harry sat up in shock. "How did you know about the – Oh, Pansy, duh."

"Yeah, Pansy. I told her to tell you to end it."

"She did, but I couldn't find a virgin!"

"You couldn't find a virgin?! How is that even possible?! Go prick a first year for God's sake!"

"Hermione forbade me from doing that!"

"Then get Longbottom!"

"Blaise already hit that!"

"Really? Are you serious?! Get away from me!" Draco snarled, pushing the other man and forcing himself to sit up. Harry climbed out of the bed and stopped the blond from moving anywhere. "Stop it! Go get a first year right now!"

"I can't."

The Slytherin crossed his arms and grit his teeth for a moment. "Well, what happens when anyone says it?"

"Something unpleasant."

"Say it," Draco ordered, his eyes lighting up evilly with the reflection of the many candle flames.

"No."

"I love you, Harry Potter and if you don't say it back, I will ruin your fucking life."

"Fine!" Harry snapped, taking a few steps away from his husband. "Draco Malfoy, I love you, too."

And his face exploded.

* * *

"Mate? What the hell happened to your eyebrows?"

"Oh, you're one to talk, Seamus," Harry growled as he rubbed at the sore area of his skin that had once been covered in black hair.

The Irishman laughed and rubbed his own nonexistent eyebrows. "I just didn't expect you to get caught up in the Taboo, too."

"Well, Draco made me say I loved him last night," Harry pouted, throwing an angry glance at the Slytherin that was proudly presenting his stomach – which was now bigger than it had been the day before – to all his snaky friends. Draco caught his glare and gave him a smirk to further glare at.

"So we can say it now?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Draco attacked some poor kid who now must think we're vampires or something."

"Harry! You didn't!" Hermione gasped, smacking him on the arm.

"Well, sorry, but Draco's scarier than you."

"Damn right, I am," the blond laughed as he walked up to his husband. The Slytherin gave the Gryffindor's a sneer as was a customary breakfast custom and pushed at Ron's shoulder so that the man would slide over and allow him to sit next to Harry. He sat with his back facing the breakfast food on the table and his feet in the aisle and he leaned over to give Harry a soft kiss.

"Ew, eating here."

Harry looked around his husband and grinned at his best friend. "What's wrong with you, Ron?"

"Sorry, but some people can't come down to breakfast with an I-got-laid-last-night mentality when one's best friend interrupted the getting laid part the night before," Ron said and Hermione gasped behind Harry and through a biscuit at the redhead. "Sorry, 'Mione!"

After several more food items flew over Harry's and Draco's heads, breakfast concluded and the students filed out of the Great Hall to go to their classes. The blond and the brunet held hands as Harry walked his husband and Hermione to their Arithmancy class since it was not too far out of the way to his Advanced Charms class.

"You guys look so cozy," Hermione said and Draco beamed at her, an act that surprised her.

Draco noticed and his smile widened. "Don't worry, Granger. As soon as I pop out this little hormone magnet, I'll be back to my normal, insulting self."

"Good to know," the amber-eyed girl laughed. "So when is the baby due?"

"Evan?" Draco said, putting a hand against his round stomach. "Well, we went to see Madam Pomfrey early this morning when we saw that my stomach was larger than it had been yesterday and she predicted that he should be borne by the end of the week."

"Oh, that's so sweet and I love the name Evan. What's his middle name going to be?" she asked as they finally reached their classroom.

"His name will be Evan Abraxas Potter-Malfoy," he said proudly.

"Malfoy-Potter," Harry said sharply, the first words he had given to the conversation.

"Potter-Malfoy," Draco snapped back, tightening his grip on the other's hand.

"Hermione, which sounds better?"

The girl flushed and looked at her best friend and his husband nervously. "Honestly?" The pair nodded. "'Potter-Malfoy' sounds better."

"What?"

"Ha ha, Potter! Looks like you lose," the blond laughed, playfully punching the other man on his chest.

"Well . . . Um . . . You're shorter than you were yesterday," he countered.

Draco's jovial attitude diminished in a pout. "I am?"

"No," the brunet said, swiftly kissing his husband and running away, waving goodbye to his friend.

"I hate you, Potter!" Draco called after him.

"I love you, too," Harry yelled back through a crowded hallway of nosy people with a wide smile on his face.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm pretty sure I could end the story here and no one would hate me, but I really want to write the birth of the baby! I'm such a sap! Anywho, the next chap will probably be the last and after that I will write a epilogue. I have no idea when they will be posted 'cuz I still have to write them and Internet stealing is an art that has to be done in the dead of night or when the parents are at work.

So, I hope this was a good chapter. My favorite part happened to be "The Great Virgin Search" and when Harry's face blew up. Hey, if anyone would like to write me an oneshot on the Great Virgin Search or the Seventh Year Virgin, I would absolutely love that! Just inform me if you do, please.

Well, seeing as this is the second to last chapter, that should clue you in that that little bit of smut will be the last smut of the story, so the people who are just here for the porn can leave now, I won't hold anything against you. (closes her eyes) One Mississippi . . . Two Mississippi . . . (opens her eyes) Hey, where did everyone go?! You perverts!! (searches frantically until she finds everyone hiding behind the couch and wags a finger at them) Oh, you guys. LOL! _**-DMH**_


	14. Evan

No One's Secret To Keep

**By darkmosmordreheart**

**General Summary:** D/H. What they have is not a secret, but what they feel is. 7th year.

**Summary of This Chapter:** BABY!! Where's Harry?

**Warning:** slash, sex, language, all that good stuff.

**Disclaimer:** The characters I have borrowed for sexual favors are not mine . . . but they were last night, if you know what I mean! LOL!

**Author's Note:** Okay, so this is the last chap before the epilogue goes up and, I'm such a sap as I've stated earlier, I'm listening to James Blunt – not the latest cd 'cuz no one is willing to buy it for me, grrr – but I completely love this cd and the song _High_ is playing and, I swear, if the ending is super sappy, blame that and the damn repeat button. Such a good song! _**-DMH**_

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

"I hate Harry Potter."

"Don't say that."

"But I do, Pansy. I absolutely do."

"You don't mean that."

"I'll make myself mean it!"

"That doesn't make sense, Draco."

"Your face doesn't make sense."

The brunette made a small squeaking noise and brought her hands to her cheeks.

"I think your face is perfectly logical."

"And just what does that mean, Ronald?" Hermione asked, sending him an arching look as Pansy's expression practically gushed with appreciation.

"Nothing, 'Mione, it just means Pansy's face does . . . make sense, I guess."

"Well, what about her face, Ronnie? Does hers make sense?" the Slytherin girl goaded, smirking at the future hole the redhead was going to dig.

"Yeah. It's the most logical face I've ever seen!"

"And just what does that mean!" Hermione snapped, her logical face going red with anger.

"I don't know!"

"Excuse me!" the pacing blond in the middle of the room screamed at the bickering couple and his best friend. In less than seventy-two hours, he had gone from first trimester to third and they had the nerve to stare – no, gape like fishes at him as if he was completely mental. "Pregnant!" he screeched at them, pointing at the amazing growth where his abs had been not so long ago. "Not shut up and listen to me bitch about how much pain I'm in!"

The two Gryffindors sat up quickly, but Pansy just stretched across Draco's hospital bed and smiled. "Calm down, sweetie. You know what Madam Pomfrey said about stress."

"Yes I do, Pans," he gritted through his teeth as he began pacing again. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and bit his lip through the next contraction. He growled out his pain and continued to pace once more. "I don't want to do this. I change my mind. End this fucking curse and just kill me."

"Come, sit," the brunette urged, sitting up and patting a spot beside her on the bed.

"No," Draco moaned, clutching his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut as he stood still in the middle of the room; he refused to release the tears, absolutely refused. "Where is he?!"

"Professor Snape is looking for him!" Hermione told him, but the blond just shook his head and opened his mouth to let out a dry sob when more pain shot through his body. "Oh, please, Draco! Sit down!"

"No!" he growled at her as the pacing started once more. "When I see him, he's dead. He's so dead! I will never forgive him for this! Never! He's going to spend time graveling at my feet well into his afterlife. I will destroy him; his mind, his body, his spirit! He will appear nothing more than a soulless shell, worse than a victim of dementors because I'll take his soul and cut off his –" The hospital wing's doors flew open. "– Harry!" Draco's hopeful smile melted into misery when his quick silver eyes took in the sight of a frustrated Snape, a worried McGonagall, a twinkled eyed Dumbledore, and no Harry. "Where is my husband?" he roared, a surge of his enraged magic shooting through the room and causing several vials of potion shattered. A soft curse was heard as a rather frazzled Madam Pomfrey scurried into view.

"Where have you been, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked, surprising her with his presence when her attention had been focused on the man in labor before them.

"I've been looking up all the information I could, Albus," the mediwitch told the headmaster who nodded and moved to look at one of the many books she carried. "In all my books about pregnancy, there is barely a mention of wizard pregnancy, let alone of the actual birthing process. They all basically state that both of the partners must be present for the birth, otherwise . . . you know," she explained, casting a nervous look to the pacing blond.

"It's death, isn't it?" Draco asked, clutching his stomach. No one matched his gaze and he groaned. "Of course, it's always death! Always death! What the hell is wrong with you people! How come no one tells me these things until the moment I'm about to die?! I hate all of you! Harry and . . . and . . . and you!" he shouted, pointing at Hermione and Ron who whimpered. "This is your entire fault! Why don't you keep that bloody wanker on a bloody leash?! He's always running away somewhere! He's probably up a tree trying to save a kitten or . . . or anywhere but here with me when I'm giving birth to his firstborn son! I hate him! I hate him and all of you and . . . and . . . and if I die, I'm taking all of you with me. I'll decorate the walls in your blood like paint and . . . and . . . Mummy!"

The attention turned from the blond to his mother as she entered the room, dragging her husband along with her. She took in the sight of her son's haggard appearance and dropped Lucius' arm without a second thought as she ran across the room. "Oh, Draco, darling!"

"Oh, Mummy! I went into labor and Harry's not here! He hates me, Mummy! I just know he does!" Draco wailed as he dropped all his weight into his mother's arms and Narcissa, being a foot shorter than her son, was surprisingly strong and led him to the nearest bed, shooing Pansy off of it and laying her son across it. She stroked his sweat-dampened forehead and cooed at him, telling him that everything would be alright as she kissed away his tears.

Lucius stood beside her and frowned, but he occasionally reached out and patted his son on the leg.

"Now that the beast has been tamed," Pansy said out of Draco's earshot to Hermione, Ron, and their teachers. "Has anyone figured out what's happened to Harry?"

"I fear I know what's happened to him," a small voice said from behind the professors. They all turned to face a sheepish looking Ginny Weasley, a blush gracing her pale, freckled cheeks.

* * *

"So, I think Harry's stuck in a suit of armor," the redhead told them as she led them to the hallway where the suits of armor dwelled.

"What the hell, Ginny?!" her brother gasped, earning a slap on the arm from his head of house.

"Yes, we would all like an explanation for this," Professor McGonagall agreed, though she gave Ron another stern look that made him rub his arm.

Ginny flushed. "Well . . . I kinda told Peeves to throw Harry into a suit of armor, but I really didn't think he'd do it!" she finished hastily before everyone could explode.

"What the hell, Ginny?!" Ron roared again, going rigid in preparation for another slap that never came. It seemed McGonagall was too in shock to do anything, as were Hermione and Snape. Dumbledore, however, stifled a laugh.

"I didn't think he would do it, seriously!" she insisted. "I told him like a week ago and all he did was fly off cackling!"

"Well, we should find Harry, yes?" the headmaster suggested, his eyes twinkling bright as he walked past them all to inspect the long hallway of armor. "Now, if I was detained in a magical suit of armor, where would I be?"

"Perhaps the suit that is emitting loud clangs, sir," Snape drawled drily, though his eyes were twinkling about as much as Dumbledore's at the thought of Potter helplessly trapped in a suit of armor.

"Ah, perhaps you're right, Severus," the headmaster chuckled, moving to a suit the was not only clanging, but moving it's helmeted head around in a attempt to find the source of the clanging. "_Disimbartem_."

With a wave of the headmaster's wand, the suit fell apart and a gagged Harry fell out onto the floor before them, a wild look in his eyes and the helmet sitting skewed atop his head. He spit what looked to be a sock from his mouth and scrambled to his feet, glaring at them all. Even the suit of armor seemed angered as it pulled its headless body back together. "It's about time you found me!" he yelled, more than a little loudly. "I've been in here since morning!"

"We didn't know where you were!" Hermione told him with a squeak as Pansy laughed at him.

"Ron has the bloody Marauders' Map!" he bellowed.

As everyone's gaze fell to Ron in question, the redhead flushed until his hair and his skin appeared to be one red entity. "Oops, forgot I had borrowed it."

Just as Harry opened his mouth to let his friend have it, Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "As much as we would all like to stand here and bicker, there's a young man in labor that you may like to see."

"What?" Harry gasped, his eyes wide with worry. "Where is he?"

"The hospital wing," McGonagall said, but before she could finish her statement, the young man had shot off, but being a bit disoriented, he ran down the hall in the wrong direction, realized his mistake and ran past them all again, the entire time being chased by a headless knight intent on getting its head back.

* * *

Lucius aimed his wand at the hospital wing's door as a large entity – apparently made of metal – collided into it with a series of curses. The door blasted open and there stood Harry Potter amongst a pile of broken wood and what appeared to be . . . a suit of armor? Before he could question the young man, however, the brunet rushed to the bedside, his friends and teachers following close behind him, and promptly pushed Lucius out of the way. "What the hell?!"

"Oh hush, Lucius," Narcissa scolded him as she stepped away from her son and slapped her husband on the arm. "This is a moment for Harry and Draco. Everyone else, get out of the way!"

The group quickly dispersed at Lady Malfoy's orders and Madam Pomfrey was quickly at the young couple's side, flicking her wand and conjuring a curtain that shielded them from the rest of the room. Harry leaned over his husband and gazed down at him, his eye apologetic as they were worried.

"Draco, I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching to clutch the blond's hand in his. He frowned when Draco refused his hand, but relaxed when the pale hand lifted to his face and cupped his cheek.

"You're here now," Draco smiled and Harry leaned down to kiss him. "But, seriously, where the hell were you?"

"Can you believe I got trapped in a suit of armor?" Harry asked him, laughter in his voice as he stroked the hair plastered by sweat from his love's forehead.

Draco closed his eyes in pleasure. "Actually . . . I think I can . . . Harry, I'm so glad you're here."

"I know, baby." Harry kissed his temple as the blond's tears began to fall once more. "But there's nowhere else I would rather be right now. I need to be here with you. I love you."

"I love you, t – Ah!" Harry jumped as the other man suddenly grasped and clutched at him. He looked to Madam Pomfrey with wide eyes of fear.

"What's happening?!"

"It's a contraction," she told him, placing a cool rag on the blond's forehead as he sobbed and rubbed a hand down his stomach. "The more evident you two make your love, the more the baby needs to come out. It's fully developed now and is ready to meet its parents."

"Oh God, get it outta me!" Draco sobbed, punching Harry in the gut. The brunet doubled over in pain, but did not even bother to ask what the violence was for; he and Draco had been in enough fights and he knew by now not to question something that _was_ probably his fault in Draco's eyes.

"How do we do this?" Harry asked, inching away, out of his husband's reach.

"Well, it's best if you straddle him. You hands need to be on either side of his stomach and you need to concentrate all your magic in your palms," the mediwitch and Draco's head whipped around to face her with outrage.

"Isn't that dangerous?!" he snapped, panting heavily as another wave of pain hit him. "Shiiiiiiit . . . As much raw magic as he has, he's going to kill us all!"

"Thanks for the faith, honey," Harry muttered.

"Oh, shut up, Potter! You have no understanding of what all your power can do! You barely have understanding of half the magic you _are_ capable of doing!" He turned back to the nurse. "And you're saying that he has to be able to hold all of that magic to my stomach and our baby?!"

"Just because I don't understand magic half as well as you do does not mean I don't know how to control it!" Harry barked at him before the woman could answer and before Draco could reply, he was straddling the bed, rolling his sleeves up, pulling Draco's shirt over his head and off, and placing his palms on either side of the blond's swollen stomach. "Just trust me, Draco. I would never do anything to hurt you or our baby. I promise."

"Aww, fuck, Potter, why do you have to be so damn . . . amazing?" Draco asked weakly, covering the back of Harry's hands with his own.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I want my baby," Harry said, his smile wide. He waited until his grin was returned before he turned to Madam Pomfrey. "What do we do now?"

"Concentrate the magic in your hands, all of it," she told him, shuffling around and picking up a large book. She thumbed through it a moment before finding what she sought and explained, "Since the two of you cannot birth the child in the traditional manner, the baby must be pulled out of the magical womb – coaxed, if you will – by your incantation."

"Our incantation?" Draco huffed, his face reddening as pain became almost unbearable. Harry blew him a kiss.

"Yes. You have to develop a unique incantation to release the child from the womb of your combined magic. Depending on what you say, you might be able to determine the child's personality or appearance, but that's very rare in rare cases like these."

"Are we going to have to do this for every child we have?!" Harry asked, his voice panicked. "What if we forget what we –"

"Potter, start the bloody incantation already!" Draco ordered at the top of his lungs, making sure to curl his short fingernails surprisingly deep into the backs of Harry's hands.

"Right," the brunet replied with a wince. "Uh . . . I don't know what to say."

Silver eyes rolled and Draco gave a shuttered breath. "Come to us, our firstborn. Rise from our magic and grace us with your presence –"

"You sound like you're summoning a demon," Harry muttered.

"Shut up, Potter!" Draco growled before directing his angered gaze to his stomach, the silver eyes immediately softening. "Evan . . . our child; may you be beautiful, clever, and gracious."

"May you be courageous and just," the Gryffindor added.

"We love you so much, Evan." Draco said quietly and the pair looked to the nurse.

"That was the worse incantation ever," Harry snorted and received a swing at his head by a laughing Draco. He bent and kissed his husband's bared stomach, nuzzling the soft skin as he did.

"Well," Madam Pomfrey said, blushing slightly at the intimate scene. "All is left to do is . . . reach inside and pull Evan out."

"Reach inside?" Harry asked, wiggling his fingers a bit on Draco's pale flesh and noticing that it did not feel the same as it had moments before. He pressed slightly and Draco screamed and bucked in pain. Immediately, he snatched his hands back, but Draco's were gripping his wrists, directing them back.

"It's alright," he whispered, his eyes hooded and reflecting his tiredness. "Get our baby, Harry. I want to see you holding him."

Harry nodded and positioned his hands again. He slowly pressed inside, easing his husband into the pain and biting his lip to stop from objecting to hurting the man. His hands disappeared into Draco, but he could see them, as if pale skin had become transparent. He was gazing at what appeared to be a spinning cyclone of threads of gold and silver. The tips of his fingers grazed the cyclone and intense heat shot through his body, almost to the point that he feared he was going to burn. With a determine expression on his face, he pushed his hands into the cyclone and was surprised when the magic was suddenly melting away as his hands gained a gentle grip of something soft. He gasped as he pulled his hands back and he trembled when he heard the cries.

"Oh my God, he's perfect," Draco sighed tiredly, sounding as if he had done nothing but run for the last few hours. Harry smiled shakily at him and looked back to his son . . . his son, wiggling around in his hands, dripping with what looked to be the foamy residue of their combined magic, crying out, squeezing his small fists and scrunching up his red face beneath a dark tuft of hair. He was beautiful. "Harry, I want to hold him."

The new father nodded and carefully placed the baby into Draco's waiting arms. He climbed off the blond's legs and helped him to sit up. Then he stared in silent awe at his son as Draco and Madam Pomfrey dried him and wrapped him in a blanket. The baby cried out a few times, but Draco quickly stifled sobs with soft strokes to the child's forehead and soft kisses and words. As he hugged the child closer to him, he looked to his silent husband and smiled. "He smells so good, Harry."

"Does he?" Harry asked, gulping down a lump in his throat. Draco nodded, so he bent down to sample the scent. Sure enough, the baby smelled of something that could only be explained as . . . pure. He wrapped his arms around his husband and child and kissed both on the forehead. "He's perfect."

"He is," Draco agreed. "Evan Abraxas Potter-Malfoy." Evan began to fuss again, but calmed when both his parents placed a gentle touch to his rounded cheeks. "It's alright, Evan . . . Shh, darling . . . We love you so much . . ." Evan wiggled around happily at these words and curled up contently against Draco's bare chest. Harry bent and kissed his husband, in gratitude and love. Draco gently pulled away from the kiss and lifted Evan into Harry's arms. "Show him to everyone else while I get freshened up, alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said as he took the child. "But I don't get why you need freshening up. You're beautiful."

Draco smiled sweetly at him and blew a wet and lanky strand of hair out of his face. "Right."

Harry smiled, kissed his forehead and took Evan out to the other side of the curtain. The first thing that he had noticed was that there were much more people in the hospital wing now than there were before. At least the entire seventh year class and a few underclassmen were crowded around the door. Hag rid was there, taking more than a little space himself along with something large and wrapped in hideous brown paper. Hermione was stroking Ron's head in her lap while Pansy read a book with Ron's feet in her own lap as he chattered on about something that left a slight smile on all of their faces. Dumbledore and Snape were playing a complicated game of wizard's chess. But what Harry noticed the most was that almost no one had noticed him come out of the curtain with his child. The only ones that noticed initially were the Lady Malfoy and Professor McGonagall; even Lucius had fallen asleep on his wife's shoulder and was snoring obnoxiously with his mouth wide open. Both women looked at him with wide eyes and he gestured at the bundle in his arms and they absolutely squealed, jumping to their feet, knocking the slumbering Lucius to the ground, and scurrying to Harry as they alerted the rest of the room to his presence.

"Shh," he said with a finger to his lips as everyone in the room opened their mouths at once. Some people coughed at having to gulp down their shouts of joy, but otherwise the room was quiet enough for the baby to sleep. Harry smiled at them all, bestowing Narcissa with an even wider smile as he said, "This is . . . T-this is m-my son."

She bit back her own smile as she wiped at the tears on his reddening cheeks and looked down at the child. "Oh, Lucius, come here! He's gorgeous! Oh . . ."

She covered he mouth to stop her cries of joy and turned just in time for her husband to take her in his arms. The former death eater patted her blonde head and peered down at the child, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. He lifted his gaze to Harry's, the steel grey eyes still soft from seeing his grandchild, and the two men stared at one another for a long time before Lucius lifted a hand and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Good job."

"Thanks," Harry replied as the new grandparents moved away so his friends could see the baby.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione squealed and Ron had to wrap an arm around her waist to stop her from jumping into Harry's arms. "He's so beautiful! How's Draco doing? Is he alright? You were in there so long! But look at the baby! Ron, look at Evan, isn't he –"

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione burst into tears and launched herself into his arms. Pansy sidled up beside them and peeked at the child.

"Looks like . . . L-looks l-like y-you f-f-finally did s-something right f-for a ch-change, P-Potter," the Slytherin girl suddenly sobbed out as her eyes fell on the baby and she, too, launched herself into Ron's arms.

"Congratulations, mate," Ron told him with a nod before dragging the two girls away, muttering something that sounded like, "Bloody blubbering females."

Harry smiled at his friends and turned to his teachers. Snape nodded to him, McGonagall kissed him on the cheek, Hagrid burst into incoherent tears, and Dumbledore just stared at him with twinkling eyes. "Congratulations, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," he replied as Narcissa came back to claim the baby, having rid herself of her tears. He handed the baby off to his grandmother and hastily pushed his way through the crowd, earning slaps to the back and a handful of presents on his way to the doorway. Gratefully, no one followed him out the door of the hospital wing – probably because a glance at the baby was far more important – and he was left alone in the hallway.

He pressed his back to the nearest wall, sunk to the floor, placed his head in his hands and wept.

Violent shudders were wracking his body with every sob when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into concerned brown eyes and let himself be pulled into the comforting arms of Ginny. She stroked his hair softly as he calmed himself, not caring that he had caused a giant puddle of tears on her shoulder a bit. Finally, he pulled himself away and leaned back, staring straight ahead of himself at a tapestry on the wall. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," he said softly. "I just . . . I'm so fucking happy, it hurts. I've never been this happy."

She smiled at him and patted him softly on the leg. "You should be happy. This should be the happiest day in your life . . . Harry, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at her and reaching out to hold her hand. "Did you see him, Gin?"

"No, but I hear he's beautiful."

"He is . . . even though he's so small and bright red and covered in wrinkles, but . . . he's perfect. I was the first one to hold him," he added on hastily, turning to her and blushing when he saw the laughter in her eyes. "I want to be the first one to know the color of his eyes."

"You will be," she assured him. "You're his father."

"I am," he confirmed with a nod, more tears forming in his eyes. He pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh God, I'm a father. I'm Evan's father. He's my son. My son . . . My family."

"I'm so happy for you, Harry," Ginny told him again, tears in her own eyes as she grinned at him.

"God, I have a family," Harry laughed shakily, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling and beyond. "I never really thought about it until he was here. I haven't thought about having a . . . a family since Sirius . . . and now . . ."

"You have one," Ginny supplied for him and he nodded, crying a bit more before wiping the tears on the sleeve of his shirt. He smiled at the ceiling, then at Ginny, then at his hands, then at the floor, then at the sun shining through the windows as it set, then anything else he could have possibly smiled at. "Come on, Harry. Let's go see your baby."

"Yeah," he agreed, climbing to his feet and helping her up. "Uh . . . Thank you, Ginny."

"I didn't do anything," she said, smiling up at him in confusion, but he shook his head.

"Yeah, you did." They walked back into the hospital wing, pushing through the crowd that quietly cheered at Harry's reappearance, no one even caring that he was leading his exgirlfriend through them. When he reached Narcissa, she was sitting beside Draco, looking as immaculate and stunning as ever as he held Evan in his arms.

"Harry, where were you?" he asked, eyeing the redhead behind his husband.

"I needed to step out for a little while, Draco, but everything's fine," he told the blond as he conjured a chair and sat beside his family.

"You sure?" Draco asked, a silver brow arched as he stared pointedly at Ginny, causing her to blush.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Come on, Ginny. Come see our son."

The girl stepped forward and crouched down until she was on her knees. Draco held Evan to him hesitantly for a moment, but after a glance to his husband and a few prodding words, he allowed Ginny to hold the baby. She smiled at him and then smiled at Evan.

"Oh," she sighed, rocking the sleeping child in her arms slightly. "He looks like you, Draco."

"Does he?" the blond asked, forgetting his worries and leaning over to peer at the child. "I thought he looked like Harry."

"No. I think it's just the black hair that he has in common with Harry," she told him.

Harry leaned forward to take a look as well. "Yeah, he has your darty little nose."

"My nose is not darty!" Draco exclaimed, covering the nose in question.

"And your pointy chin," Harry continued, ignoring his husband's protests.

"My chin is pointed, not pointy!"

"What's the difference?!"

"There's a difference, Potter!"

"That makes no sense."

"Neither does your face!"

"Your parents deserve each other," Ginny whispered to the child in her arms and Evan giggled in his sleep.

_**- The End -

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**__****_

**Author's Note:** Alright, so that was not as sappy as I intended it, but it was pretty darn sappy without our boys going too out of character, right? Well, I hope you all liked it – even the Ginny haters – but I had to put the reconciliation in there. It was just weird for me to end it without there being some forgiveness between Ginny and Harry. Also, I recall telling a few people in review responses for earlier chapters that Lucius was going to get his at the end, but I just couldn't do that – I love him too much! If it makes you feel better, I'm sure Narcissa made him sleep on the couch on the other wing of the Manor for at least a month for his naughty actions.

There's something else I should address; Hermione and Ron and Pansy. I have no idea what I was doing with all of them, but I was sort of hinting that Pansy could be a threat to this couple's relationship if anyone caught it. I guess I can't decide who I like Ron the most with, Hermione or Pansy. I'm kinda leaning towards Pansy. I should write an oneshot. If anyone has ideas, please share.

So, you'll hear more about Harry and Draco and Evan in the epilogue, but this story is over! I hope you liked it and I hope the ending was satisfying!

– _**darkmosmordreheart**_


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

Harry Potter woke to a sudden glare of sunlight and shut his sensitive eyes shut hastily, flipping onto his side, away from the morning sun someone had exposed him to. As he sunk back into the cocoon of pillows and blankets, a gentle poke disturbed his attempted slumber slightly, but was quickly dismissed. However, it was not easily dismissed and the pokes continued, only to be followed by harder pokes and what could only be described as an outright jab.

"What?!" the brunet almost snapped, bolting up into a sitting position and preparing to round on the owner of the poking finger until he met a pair of large, silver eyes. "Oh, um . . . yes?"

"Mummy wants you," his son said, his eyes watering with the already perfected art of appearing sorrowful. "I'm sorry I woke you, Daddy."

"Aw, don't be," Harry groaned, pulling his son into his arms and planting a kiss atop his blond head. "Let Daddy just wash up. Wanna come with me?"

"Uh huh!" the four year old exclaimed with a vigorous nod, anticipating his daddy's exciting assortment of floating potions, soaps, and creams. As his father climbed from the bed and put his glasses on, the tiny blond bounded after him so quickly that Harry barely had time to catch him before he tumbled onto the floor; an event that had happened once already and earned Harry a present from a very angry sliver of hawthorn that still ached every time it rained.

"Careful," he urged, tugging the boy up into his arms. Silver eyes blinked impishly at him and he kissed the pale skin between them, earning a scrunched nose for his efforts. "What shall Daddy do first, hmm?"

"Brush his teeth!" was exclaimed and Harry opted to smile rather than take offence, seeing as he had been a witness of many a stinky diaper from this child.

"Alright." The pair quickly tested all of Daddy's teeth cleaning potions and a few of Mummy's until they were each giggling through their foaming mouths.

"Hey!" Their attention – along with a pair of guilty expressions – turned to the expectant blonde leaning in the doorway. As silence only followed, a silver brow rose in question.

"Um, we're brushing our teeth," Harry explained as cool green eyes scrutinized them.

"Mum wants you downstairs right now," his eldest daughter told him as she reached her arms out to take her little brother. "And he says no blaming Narciss on your habitual tardiness and lack of general human traits such as manners or the consideration well deserved for someone who waits after you all the bloody time."

"Is that all he said?" Harry asked flatly, pleased that he had managed not to roll his eyes.

"He also called you a big ape, but that's neither here nor there," she said, parading from the room with her little brother in tow.

"You're beginning to sound just like him, Lucia!" he shouted after her. "Stop it before it gets too late!" He finished rinsing out his mouth, hoping his husband would not notice that their youngest was foaming at the mouth himself, and donned a robe to go downstairs.

He made it successfully to the last step before he found his arms full of an eager eleven year old. "Good morning, Dad."

"Good morning, Jamie," he answered his favorite tomboy, kissing her on the cheek and effectively jostling their glasses together. "Oops. You'd think we'd learn by now."

The girl just grinned, lifted a hand to sweep her inky black hair from her face, and covered her green eyes with her pair of glasses. "No problem, Dad. Uh, Mum wants you in the kitchen."

Harry made a great deal of rolling his eyes and sighing heavily, but allowed his youngest daughter to take position of his hand and tug him to the love of his life, who was currently standing with his back to the kitchen door. He looked to be arranging a pile of toast – the only food he had managed to prepare successfully to date – and swayed the black silk clad behind Harry had owned the night before back and forth as he hummed a little tune with Narciss. All and all, the blond was completely unsuspecting. Harry smiled at the opportunity and stealthily made his way to his husband's back – under the watchful eyes of Jamie, Lucia, and Narciss – and tugged the slender blond into his arms, effectively scaring the crap out of one Draco Malfoy.

"Potter, I'll kill you!" the blond screeched as he was swung haphazardly into the air.

"Not in front of the children, dear," Harry chided; setting his husband on the ground and kissing him soundly despite the chorus of protest from his children. Draco moaned into the kiss, which resulted in longer and louder groans and a bout of "My eyes! My eyes!" to which they ignored. "Now what's so important that I have to be down here this damn early?"

"It's eleven-thirty."

"Saturday," Harry replied with a finality to which Draco just shrugged as he stood behind Jamie and played with her thick black hair. The girl laughed and told her father that he made no sense. He responded gruffly, "Neither does waking up this early on Saturday, despite it almost being noon."

"Well, today is a special day, Mister Early-Bird," the blond told him before turning to his miniature. "Isn't that right, Narciss?"

"Uh huh, Mummy!" the four year old shouted, almost bounding out of his Lucia's arms and lap where they sat at the kitchen table. "Can we sing now, Mummy?"

"Not yet, but later," Draco promised with a sweet smile, bending down to kiss his son's forehead, then his daughter's cheek. Lucia smiled just as sweetly. "We have to wait for your brother first. Didn't you wake him, Lu?"

"Yeah, but . . . um," the blonde muttered. Draco pulled Narciss from her arms and gave her an arched stare. "Um . . . he's still in his room."

"And?"

"And . . . about his room –" she began, an ultimate look of strain on her delicate features. Draco did not even allow her to finish, just huffed and stomped out of the kitchen, and then doubled back to hand Narciss over to Harry.

"What was that about?" Harry asked his children as he positioned himself and Narciss on a stool and lifted his husband's cup of tea to his lips. As always it was too bitter, so he added in a few sugars Draco would be angry about later. "Is something wrong with Evan?"

"No," Lucia said hastily, crossing her arms and jutting out her chin in a way that Harry knew the fourteen year old would grow up to be just like her mother. "Teddy's in his room."

"Teddy? When the hell did he get here?" he asked, not even noticing when the blond child in his lap had taken to adding even more sugar into the tea as he gaped. There had been a ban of his godson in their household as of last week for numerous incidents involving the young man and his own son that he did not want to even begin to recall. He would have to owl Lupin and tell him to put his kid on a leash while he chained his own to the wall.

"He stole his mum's broom and flew in through the window around three in the morning," Lucia reported, her jade eyes flashing at the memory. "The only reason I know this was because he mistook my window for Evan's and I ended up with a heap of blue-haired geek in my lap and woke up. Then Evan made me promise not to tell."

"What did he bribe you with?" Jamie asked, gaining her sister's glare.

"It's really none of your business, but I am now the owner of Evan's servitude for a week," Lucia bragged, a true Slytherin smirk on her lips. Harry rolled his eyes and forcibly removed the spoon from his son's overly eager fingers.

"You didn't attempt the Unbreakable bond with him again, did you?" he had to ask, but she shook her head.

"Not that spell, no." Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Harry was interrupted by the sudden appearance of his godson on the kitchen floor. When the young man noticed he was being watched, his face burned beet red, the color climbing into the roots of his sky blue hair.

"Uh . . . Hullo, Harry," he said sheepishly.

"Don't you 'hello, Harry' anybody, you little sneak!" Draco barked as he crashed into the room, his eldest son following close behind, seeing as he was practically being dragged by the hand on the scruff of his neck. "Now sit over there. You might as well be here for this before I floo your parents and you get your sneaky little ass handed to you."

A resigned Teddy pouted and sat on a stool next to Harry where Narciss gave him a cheeky grin of greeting as he licked his sticky fingers.

"And you," Draco hissed dangerously, rounding on his son, whose back went rigid automatically. "Sit at the table with your sisters and if I hear one whine of the 'Evan's poking me' game you all are so found of, I'll make sure none of you have the ability to poke anything ever again."

Evan pouted and dragged himself to sit across from Lucia and next to Jamie where he muttered almost silently, "I don't know what the big deal is. He's still a virgin."

"And the only one, apparently!" Draco fumed at the fifteen year old, aiming a spell at the boy that had him digging for the underwear that tightened uncomfortably up his behind as his sisters giggled. "And he's your cousin, you demon."

"No, he's not!" Evan protested, looking to Teddy for help, but the boy looked away with a blush.

"Second cousin," Lucia said softly.

"Yeah, second cousin. Thank you, minion," Draco said to his daughter her beamed at him. "Anyway, we don't have to punish you now; that can always wait until later. Don't you have something to say to your father?"

Harry looked at his eldest, a mixture of amusement and wonder on his face. This was his Evan? This lanky kid with rain-straight, raven black hair and eyes so light a silver they appeared white at certain angles? This kid, as infuriating as he was, but so damn smart and headstrong about everything was his son; his little boy, his baby? This kid, able to withstand the terror his mother became with every stubborn thing he did, was his Evan? This kid that was becoming a man right before his eyes was Evan, the tiny thing he had held in his arms not too long ago?

This lunatic kid with an odd fascination of everything perverse and sexual and Teddy Lupin?

Strangely, Harry was not disappointed – with the Teddy incident, the having to wake up on Saturday, the way his daughter was turning into the second coming of Draco, or even the fact that Narciss would be a bouncing ball of sugar in a moment – as the teen looked him in the eye and said, "Happy birthday, Dad. I love you."

– THE END –

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**Author's Note:** Finally finished! WAH! I'm sad! I'll miss writing this, but . . . if you all are nice, I might write a sequel . . . Hell, I'll write a sequel even if you weren't nice, probably because I've had an idea for the sequel since the sixth chapter and because I love writing the children so much.

Thank you so, so, so much for reading! I've been writing this fic since I first joined this site about a year ago and it really warms my heart that it's liked by so many. Thanks again for reading and . . . REVIEW!! Tell me what you thought of my first multi-chaptered fic. _**–DMH**_



P. S. Thank you Wheezy D. I don't know specifically what for, but I'm sure I'll remember eventually. LOL!


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